Little Child Lost
by SassyAngel05
Summary: Sark escapes during Succession and drags Sydney along for the ride. They discover themselves and each other. SS, of course. Last chapter! Thank you sooo much for the reviews! And just for reading it!
1. Default Chapter

Author: Vona

Title: Little Child Lost

Rating: PG-13

Pairing; S/S

Disclaimer:  Nope. Still don't own them.

Summary: Set during Succession.  Sydney and Sark escape during the trade.

**_Little Child Lost_**

**_Chapter One_**

**_Escape_**

            It was sweltering.  Deserts tended to be that way.  The heat was so dry; waves of warmth seemed to be rolling against the bright gold sand.  The sun was blaring down on Sark, nearly blinding him.  He'd been cooped up inside a Plexiglas cage for nearly two years without any hint of sun.  Being outside was an adjustment, not that he was complaining.  He'd been stir-crazy since day one.  Another major adjustment was seeing Sydney again.  He wasn't sure where Sydney had been for the past few years, but he had several thoughts on it.  Not that any of it mattered.  In a few short moments, he was going to be traded to an unknown terrorist organization that most likely wanted him dead.  He was debating at the moment whether being dead or being in custody was better.  He didn't have nearly enough time to ponder that question because Sydney was telling him he was up.  He started the journey across the desert, almost halfway there when a helicopter flew from behind the mountains as several policia cars sped down the flat ground.  He glanced between both groups to see who had betrayed whom.  Unfortunately, neither seemed to be claiming responsibility for the double cross.  Gunfire burst from each side and Sark threw himself on the ground in one fluid motion.  Next to him, the idiot CIA agent, collapsed, his hands covering his head.  Sark knew that this was the opportunity he'd been waiting for.  He could be completely free from all of them.  Sark crawled slowly towards the CIA caravan, figuring it would be easier to steal a car from the agents then it would be from The Covenant.  Sydney, the miracle woman, stood behind a door, firing her rifle from across the desert.  She looked beautiful amidst all the glittering granules and dark vehicles, so lost and so beautiful.  He jerked her behind one of the vans, knocking the gun down from her grasp.  She seemed surprised to see him back on their side instead of in the center of the desert.  That was good, because that meant most of the other agents wouldn't have noticed.  

"Sark!"

"I'm getting out of here, Sydney.  I think you should come with me."

"What?  You think I'm going to let you waltz out of here…"

"I don't think you have much of a choice.  Sydney, I have contacts the CIA and your father don't have.  Come with me and we'll find out where you've been."

"No.  Absolutely not.  You're not going anywhere, either."

Sark watched her skeptically, then scanned the desert for the easiest escape route.

"I will be leaving in ten seconds.  My offer to help you discover your past will be off the table then.  10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3…"

Indecision marred Sydney's delicate features.  Sydney grabbed her gun from his hold and slid into the open door of one SUV.  He ran to the other side, where Agent Weiss was yelling into his communication link.  Sark kicked Weiss in the stomach and hit him in the back of the head.  He grabbed up the machine gun from Weiss's unconscious grip before jumping into the SUV.  He peeled away from the bloody scene behind him, Sydney sulking in the back seat of the car.

            They'd entered a tiny town after driving south for nearly an hour.  Sark had looped around; on the off chance that someone was following them.  They would construe he'd gone north instead and try to cut him off there.  Sydney hadn't spoken since they'd driven off into the proverbial sunset and it worried him.  Sydney wasn't exactly the silent type, at least not the Sydney he used to know so well.  He glanced to the back seat, almost to assure himself of her presence.  She was staring out the tinted window at the cacti flying by.

"Sydney, I think we need to find new transportation.  It's not exactly ingenious to be traveling around in a stolen CIA vehicle when they're trying to track us."

Sydney seemed to snap out of it.  Sark pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the engine.  He began to massage his wrists, where his handcuffs had left red rims around them.  Sark unlocked the doors and stretched.  Sydney followed his actions and stood there, staring at him.  She seemed to just realize she'd run off with Mr. Sark, leaving the CIA and everything she used to know behind.

"Why did I come with you, Sark?"  She sounded almost shell shocked and Sark wondered if he would be able to help her.  For some reason, he wanted to.  She'd locked him up for two years and he wanted to help her.  He was an assassin, a spy, a terrorist and he wanted to help a CIA agent.  Figures.  

"You want to know what happened to you and I will help you find it."  
"How do I know you really well?  This could be an elaborate ruse to get me away from the CIA to kill me."

"You know I will.  You have to trust me."

Sydney snorted in disgust.  "Trust you?  We're both fugitives now!  There's no reason for me to trust you.  There's no reason for me to trust anyone.  I trusted Vaughn and look where that got me.  Sloane, Francie, Noah, Danny, Dixon…"

Sydney trailed off, withdrawing back inside herself.  Sark couldn't let that happen.  If he wanted to help Sydney, she had to reach her full potential, and feeling sorry for herself was not it.

"Sydney, you can trust me.  If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it long ago.  You know that."

Sydney nodded a bit, pushing a stray piece of hair back into her braid.  Sark sighed as he looked for any sign of a decent car to swipe.  Of course, being a little town in Mexico, they didn't really have anything suitable to him.  He started to walk.

"Sark, where are we going?"

"To…"

"Wait!"  He stopped at her sudden outburst and turned to look at her.  Sydney pulled off a comm. link from her ear, realizing she still had it.  She dropped it on the ground and stomped on it, breaking the metal into tiny bits.  Sydney realized that she'd just severed all ties with the CIA.  Her only affiliation now was Sark.

"We're going to Moscow."

"Why Moscow?"

"I have a contact there."

"Who?"

"You're inquisitive all of a sudden.  We traveled for an hour and you didn't say a word."

Sydney shrugged.  Sark grinned boyishly as he found what he was searching for, a red Mercedes.  He bent down, picking it open without setting the alarm off.  He still had it. Sydney slid in first and Sark started the ignition.  They drove on south, knowing soon they'd have to stop for the night.  It was getting late.


	2. Searching

**_Little Child Lost_**

**_Chapter Two_**

**_Searching_**

Sark dialed the emergency number he'd been given from a pay phone.  He shut the phone booth in an effort to block out Sydney's hearing, though the thin glass didn't really obstruct it like he'd hoped.  The phone rang endlessly and Sark began to wonder if the number was no longer in affect.  "Hallo?"  A strange voice finally answered.

"I am looking for Andrian Lazairey."

Sydney's head shot up from the car when she heard the name.  Why was Sark calling a dead man?  Did he know she'd killed Lazairey and he was wishing to unnerve her?  She had to fight the urge to scream and run all at once. 

"May I ask who is calling?"  The voice was accented Russian, so Sark figured it was still the correct number.  He couldn't see his father hiring anyone else for the embassy.

"This is Mr. Sark."

"Mr. Sark!"  The voice was now ecstatic.  "Andrian Lazairey has been dead for eight months.  The lawyers have been searching for you."

Sark nearly dropped the phone at the news.

"Why?"

"Mr. Lazairey left you 800 million dollars in gold bullion."

Sark let the number spread over him.  He was completely and utterly rich.  He had enough money to do whatever he wanted to, even more so than before.  The best part was that he would never have to depend on anyone.  Maybe Lazairey had been good for something.

"Where is it?"

"The Cayman Islands."

"Transfer some money to the El David Aeroport."

"Sir, I can't.  It is in a VIP vault that only you have access to."

Sark paused.  "All right.  I'll be visiting the islands tomorrow."

Sark hung up the phone and turned to Sydney.

"Do you have access to any funds right now?"

"You're broke."  Sydney said it in surprise.  She had always figured Sark for they type to have money with him in all sorts of bank accounts.

"My accounts have been frozen, Sydney.  At least my most used ones and the others I have to be present to withdraw the money.  Besides, I need us to reach the Cayman Islands for a considerable amount."

"How much?"

Sark didn't reply, simply headed back for the car.

"Why did you call Andrian Lazairey?"

Sark flinched slightly, the death of his father sinking in.  He'd never been incredibly close with his father, but they weren't mortal enemies.  Andrian had been an acceptable man.  At first, he'd been a great patriot.  He worked with the KGB first, where he'd met a woman named Irina Derevko.  She was a woman his own age, ready to embark on a deep cover mission in the United Sates.  When Irina had returned, Sark had been a little boy of five, motherless and impressionable.  Irina had still been feeling maternal after leaving an adorable six-year-old daughter behind in the States.  When he turned six, his father was sent to Britain as an ambassador.  Sark had been sent to boarding school.  School had been bitter, cold, and lonely, but he'd adapted.  The KGB slowly dissolved with the Communists and Andrian's loyalties no longer belonged to the Russian government.  Andrian continued to work for the government, crookedly.  He'd become affiliated with The Man, K-Directorate, and several other terrorist organizations.  Sark figured it was during that time that Andrian accumulated 800 million dollars.  Sydney started snapping her fingers in front of his eyes to grab his attention.  Sark blinked, focusing on her face.

"Andrian Lazairey was my father."

Sark turned away and started the car to drive towards the hotel in town.  Sydney sighed while she buckled her seat belt.  She'd murdered Sark's father.  A flash of remorse coursed through her veins, the guilt wracking her body.  She had to find out everything.

            Sark only rented one room for the night.  He claimed it would be better if they didn't split up.  Sydney accepted that explanation without much protest.  Maybe it was because Sark gave her a sense of comfort.  He'd barely changed over her missing years, only a bit more jaded and shorter hair.  In a universe that had changed so much, an entire world full of different, Sark remained the same.  It made her feel ordinary.  He didn't treat her much differently, either.  He still hid everything from her, he still tried to unnerve her, and he still remained one of the most talented agents she'd ever encountered.  Sadly enough, it soothed her frayed nerves.  Sydney laid back on the king-sized bed, staring up at the grimy white ceiling.  This wasn't exactly a four star facility, but it was the most comfortable Sark could find.  The hotel was better than his holding cell, even if it was much, much dirtier.  Sark took a seat in the desk chair, propping his feet up on the desk.  At the moment, he didn't feel like invading Sydney's space.  Sydney was still fairly silent and it didn't hurt to let her consider their situation.  Besides, he liked the calm.  It was giving him time to absorb the last day.  Escape, death, Gold bullion.  He didn't mind the first and the last.  Sark pushed his hands over his shorn hair, a habit he'd never been able to break.  He needed to do something with his hands.  He never was the sit-still type.  He started to shake his leg, unconsciously, unable to stop.  "Do you have to do that?"

Sydney's voice was muffled by one of the pillows, but her annoyance came clearly through.

"No."

"I just thought I'd ask."

Sark smirked at Sydney's sarcastic retort.  He also stopped shaking.  Sydney turned over on her side, her arms underneath her head.  Sark studied her, debating whether he should speak up and ask her what she did remember.  He needed to know.

"Sydney?"

"What?"  She sounded incredibly crabby.  Joy.  It was going to be especially pleasant to question her about her memories.

"Where did you wake up?"

"I am not discussing this with you."

"You want my help, you have to inform me of your previous situation."

"I'm tired of going over the same thing all the time.  I'm so tired of it."

Sark knelt in front of Sydney, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek in a rare moment of tenderness.

"You must.  Just once more.  After that, I will aid you in filling in the blanks.  Tell me, Sydney."

"I woke up in Hong Kong.  The last thing I remember was fighting with Allison and shooting her.  I passed out from exhaustion and blood loss and when I woke up, I was in the middle of an alley in Hong Kong.  Everything had changed.  My best friends were gone, Vaughn was married, my dad was in prison, Sloane was 'good'.  You're the only thing that hasn't changed."

Sydney's eyes welled up with unshed tears.  She hadn't really had a chance to cry about anything.  Her defenses were down, but she still refused to let Sark see her like this.  She would not let him see her this distraught.  Sark leaned forward to kiss her forehead softly.  It was so feather-light, Sydney almost thought it hadn't occurred.

"Rest, Sydney.  We'll be leaving early in the morning for the Cayman Islands."

Sydney stretched back out on the bed, her eyes fluttering shut.  Sark examined her as she dozed into a restless slumber.  Perfectly pale skin, beautifully almond shaped eyes, silky brown hair.  She was perfect.  No wonder Rambaldi chose her for The Telling.  Sark returned to his chair, settling in to the uncomfortable plastic.  He'd adapted to sleeping on hard surfaces.  The metal cot the CIA provided was hardly the epitome of softness.  He closed his eyes, tipping his head back, and slipped off into a dreamless sleep.


	3. Golden

**_Little Child Lost_**

**_Chapter Three_**

**_Golden_**

Sydney woke before Sark did.  He was probably pretty tired and that chair didn't exactly scream comfort.  He most likely didn't fall asleep until much later than she did.  For a brief instant, Sydney felt guilty over taking the gigantic bed.  There had been plenty of room for him to join her and still stay safely on his side of the bed.  She didn't dwell on it for too long, though, before getting up to take a shower.  Sark was breathing heavily, a light snore filling the silent room.  Sydney nearly giggled since she'd never really expected him to be the type to snore.  It made him seem more human.  That and hearing him declare a father.  She didn't particularly want to think about Sark as a human.  He was supposed to stay the detached monster she'd always pictured him as.  When he wasn't talking with that smooth British accent or shooting at her from a stairwell, he looked quite young.  She'd never let herself wonder about Sark; it was easier to despise him if he had no outstanding characteristics or personality.  Easier on all of them.  At that very moment, Sydney wondered about him.  Maybe his childhood had been akin to hers.  A distant detached father, no mother, training to be a spy.  Perhaps he hadn't really had a childhood.  She sighed knowing this line of thinking was far from productive.  She needed to be recapturing her last two years, not Sark's questionable childhood.  She shut the door to the bathroom quietly and started the steady stream of hot water from the spigot.  She recalled her decontamination shower temporarily that Sark had provided after spraying her with chloraflouride.  It was hard for her to comprehend the concept of trusting Sark.  She wasn't supposed to.  She was positive of that.  The only thing that stayed the same was Sark as the enemy.  Only he wasn't anymore.  It was so confusing.  She stepped inside the shower and let the steamy liquid surround her; cleanse her body of sand and dirt, her hair slickening against her face.  She was positive she heard the door open, but when she poked her head out from behind the shower curtain, she found no one.  She finished up her shower and dried off.  Lying on the counter was a knee-length skirt with huge exotic flowers covering.  A black off the shoulder top sat folded against the skirt, a pair of sling back sandals on the white tile.  Had Sark purchased the outfit for her?  The thought was almost sweet.  She slipped into the clothing.  It fit perfectly.  She glanced at her appearance in the mirror.  She pulled her hair in a messy bun since she had no hair dryer, and she placed a flower in the tie.  She had no make up and apparently Sark hadn't thought to purchase that for her.  She licked her lips and exited the bathroom.  

            Sark had flipped on the TV.  It got two stations, but it was something.  He couldn't wait to change out of his Government Issue clothing for a nice suit.  He'd found exactly what he was looking for.  There was a manor off the side of town.  He'd threatened to kill one of the maids if she didn't bring him a designer suit for himself and something nice for Sydney to wear.  He'd succeeded in that endeavor.  Now all he needed was a hot shower.  Sydney was still occupying the bathroom, so he waited patiently.  All he wanted was to get to the gold bullion.  Sydney entered the room and he couldn't breathe for a moment.  He'd seen Sydney in a variety of outfits and wigs, her look incredibly versatile.  All the same, he hadn't expected her to look so naturally gorgeous.  She was stunning.  She didn't have an ounce of make up on and her hair was wet, a few tendrils falling from a bun.  A few petals from a pink rose peeked out from the side of her head.  The clothing fit her perfectly, every curve enhanced.  He knew he was staring, so he forced himself to avert his eyes.  He was unflappable.  He was not going to let a pretty girl change that.  

"I trust the clothing is acceptable."

"It is.  Thank you."

Sydney flinched as if appreciating his gesture physically hurt her.  Sark stood gracefully, his motions fluid as usual.  

"I am going to take a shower if you don't mind."

Sydney shrugged as he passed by her, their arms brushing each other, electricity shooting through both of them.  Both were glad he was leaving the room.  It was almost too much.

            Sark strolled into the bank, confident as usual.  His shirt had three buttons undone, no tie strangling his neck.  He'd always hated ties.  Suits were nice, but ties were simply binding.  After spending two years in Government Issue clothing, he'd gotten used to not having anything around his neck.  The smooth material of the suit felt wonderful against his skin, much better than the cotton polyblend government jumpsuit.  He knew he caught a few eyes of the women inside the Island bank, as Sydney did of the men.  They'd had an all right flight.  His jet was back in action, each section of the plane private.  He'd finally been able to contact the hangar to have it pick them up in Mexico.  The plane had impressed Sydney, even though she didn't voice her opinion.  She probably didn't want to admit she had the same taste as he did.  Sark found the bank president, almost eager to pick up his money.  The manager led Sark and Sydney to the back of the bank and down a flight of stairs.  There stood the vault.  Sark pressed his hand against the digital imager and watched the door slide open.  Sark's eyes widened as he saw the blocks of gold glittering at him mockingly.  Sydney stood by his side and he heard her gasp.

"How much is it?"

"800 million dollars."

She didn't say anything else.  She wasn't quite sure what to say.  'Hey, glad you're now a multimillionaire' didn't quite seem to work.  The money didn't exactly impress her, but knowing that they would have the funding to do their research comforted her.  Sark felt relief flood over him, knowing that he had everything he needed now. Money, power…Sydney.

"I'll always be able to take care of you, Sydney."

He wasn't sure what possessed him to say it.  He'd spoken quietly, but she'd heard him.  She didn't respond.  She knew she was supposed to reply, maybe something like 'I don't need you to take care of me', but the thought was nice.  Incredible.  Sark glanced over at the manager.  "We need to discuss what to do with this."

"As you wish, Mr. Lazarey."

"It's Mr. Sark now."

The bank manager nodded obediently at hearing Sark's crisp tone.  "We'll discuss it right away."

            Jack leaned back into his leather chair in the conference room.  Dixon, Weiss, Vaughn and his wife, Lauren Reed, sat around a table, their computer screens blank.  Marshall was typing frantically, frustrated that the video footage hadn't come up yet.  He'd found Sark at a bank on the Cayman Islands.  He'd found Sydney, also.  Finally.  The video came up.

"I, uh, found out where Mr. Sark went.  He was in the Cayman Islands, a bank.  He inherited 800 million dollars in gold bullion from his father, Andrian Lazarey.  He was a diplomat for Russia.  He was killed a while ago.  Sark is pretty surprised about the money.  Everyone is.  I can imagine what it'd be like to find out to have 800 million dollars.  It's better than winning the lottery, I bet.  I played that once.  I bought a ticket and picked the numbers.  It was my mom's birthday.  But I didn't win."

The look the group was giving him made him stop.

"Anyway, here it is."

The video feed streamed into the computers.  The two spies stood side by side, looking like quite a couple in designer threads. They weren't speaking, just staring at something.

"How much is it?"

"800 million dollars."

They seemed content to just stand there in each other's company.

"I'll always be able to take care of you, Sydney."

Sydney didn't seem too uncomfortable with the promise he'd just given her.  Marshall stopped the video as Dixon stood.  He looked incredibly pained as he began his speech.

"It's obvious Sydney isn't there with Mr. Sark under duress, so we have to see it as she's chosen her side.  Unfortunately, that's Mr. Sark's organization.  This is the first bit of emotion Mr. Sark has ever displayed besides self-preservation.  Apparently, he has a soft spot for Sydney."

Vaughn cringed at the thought that Sark had any emotion for Sydney.  He couldn't believe that Sydney had just deserted the team in the middle of a gunfight.  It just wasn't like her.  She'd always remained loyal to her team.  Maybe Sark had implanted an explosive device that he threatened to detonate if she didn't come with him.  The CIA had done it to Irina Derevko, why couldn't Sark?  Hadn't Dixon considered that possibility?  Vaughn glanced over at Jack, wondering why he hadn't spoken up.  This was his daughter they'd been talking about.  The two had been linked together on Sydney's communication link.  Maybe Jack knew where she was. It was possible that Jack knew exactly what was happening.  Vaughn decided not to say anything.  Weiss, with a bruised jaw from where Sark had punched him, did speak up for Sydney.

"I know a lot of you think Sydney has betrayed us, but remember, she lost everything.  Her friends are gone, her belongings are gone, her memory is gone.  We need to try to understand what's happening to her.  She wants to find out where she's been.  Who can blame her?  Any one of us would do anything we could to find out what had happened to us if we were experiencing what Sydney is.  So she's turned to Sark this once.  You all know he has extensive resources that ours combined can't compare to.  We need to give Sydney a chance and please don't excommunicate me for saying so.  She just needs someone to take up for her, since all of you gave up on her."

Weiss settled back into the leather chair, gulping for air.  That had been more than he'd intended to say.  He didn't regret defending Sydney because, in a way, he understood her actions.  He would accept her for who she is, who she was, and whatever she did.  The others let Weiss' words sink in and for a second, Vaughn felt guilty.  Marshall was steadfastly on Weiss' side.  No matter what happened, Sydney was kind to him.  He still respected Sydney and he would always stay on her side.  Jack didn't think Sydney had betrayed him. His little girl was so lost and so confused after everything she'd been through.  He'd heard Sark's offer to help her.  He hadn't been surprised when Sydney accepted Sark's offer.  It reminded him of Irina's offer to help him find their daughter.  Sydney was so much like him.  It terrified him, to be honest.  She was trusting a terrorist just like he'd trusted Irina.  They were both in much deeper than they'd like to admit.  He would have to contact Irina about this new development.  He wasn't going to charge in and 'rescue' Sydney from Sark after seeing that video.  It didn't seem that Sydney was in much danger with Sark.  If it remained that way, he would allow Sydney to continue her search with Sark, even if he did despise the boy wonder.  Dixon folded his arms across his chest, studying each member of his team.  They were all lost in thought, except maybe Lauren.  She didn't have a background with Sydney.  Dixon wasn't surprised at that.  Weiss' little lecture left a lot of doubts in their heads.  He wanted to give Sydney another chance.  He honestly did.  He'd been so glad when he'd heard that Sydney was alive.  She was gone again and he couldn't let his feelings for her cloud his judgment as clichéd as it sounded.  He was the director of the CIA.  That had to come first.  Loyalty to his country over loyalty to his friends.  He decided it was time to break the tense silence.

"Weiss, I appreciate your thoughts.  I sincerely do.  I don't want to believe that Sydney would betray all of us.  Like I said, she chose Sark over us.  We have to treat her like a terrorist, just like we do Mr. Sark.  Lauren and the NSA are trying to track the two of them from the Islands.  We'll capture them when we get a chance.  That's all for now."

Dixon flicked off his computer and lifted several files off the table.  The group dispersed to their own designated positions, though they only put half-hearted attempts at doing their job.


	4. Intel

**_Little Child Lost_**

**_Chapter Four_**

**_Intel_**

            Sydney felt like a caged animal.  She actually understood what Sark must have been feeling over his stay in a cell.  She was almost sympathetic.  She probably would be if Sark hadn't insisted she stay in this ridiculously lavish apartment.  They had promptly left the Cayman Islands after he'd diverted his inheritance to various funds, each untraceable.  She had access to one account; it held one million dollars.  It was for emergencies only.  She wasn't really able to comprehend Sark giving her an allowance of money.  Of course, in such a large amount, one million dollars was pocket change.  She couldn't imagine ever being able to spend all of that probably dirty cash.  Of course, at the moment, she couldn't imagine ever being able to leave the cursed apartment.  They were in Portugal somewhere.  She wasn't sure of the city and Sark didn't feel the need to inform her.  The pilot didn't come overhead on the speaker to announce the city and its weather on a privately owned plane. The pilot was probably terrified Sark would assassinate him if he did.  The boyish spy was hardly warm and cuddly.  She had seen a softer side of Sark; at least it was something akin to a softer side of Sark.  He wouldn't budge on her leaving the apartment.  He told her she wasn't a prisoner, that he was doing it for her own safety.  Since when had Sark cared about her safety?  He'd left to meet a contact, someone who could tell him about The Covenant and if they could link the organization to her disappearance.  He told her that if this guy recognized her, he would become skittish and probably give Sark nothing.  Knowing Sark, he'd vanished, backing out of their deal.  That would be just like him.  Sydney stopped in front of the window, staring out at the landscape below her.  The ocean splayed across the land, a few palm trees and waving leaves dotting the ground.  The sun was shining, warming the air.  Portugal was nice.  She'd always liked it.  Portugal was probably one of her favorite countries.  She opened her palm on the cold glass, wondering if it was possible to touch the beauty she saw.

"I hope you aren't contemplating jumping, Sydney.  Working with me really isn't that tragic."

She sighed and faced him.  "I was looking out at the town.  You know, since you seem to think I'll be a danger to our entire plan, I thought I could at least look at it from the window."

Sark couldn't stop himself from smiling a bit and he didn't realize his crystal eyes were glittering mischievously.  Sydney, however, did notice.

"I'm actually quite shocked you remained here all day.  I assumed you would 'escape' the apartment after spending two hours in here."

Sydney pouted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You mean…"

"You didn't really have to stay here?  Yes.  I simply did not want you to attend my conference with my contact."

Sydney glared at him, feeling for the first time since her return the strong desire to slug him.  Sark placed his hands up in mock surrender, not wishing to battle Sydney at the moment.

"I received some intel from my contact.  The Covenant began around the time you disappeared.  Shortly after you vanished, Sloane turned himself in.  I would guess that Mr. Sloane is the founder of The Covenant.  The events follow each other too closely to be a coincidence.  He no longer had an organization, The Alliance gone.  Irina stopped aiding him and I was unhappily locked away.  He now has a bunch of lackeys doing his bidding once again, but none of them know who the true head of The Covenant is.  He has the National Relief Organization as a cover and the CIA has no idea.  It's a perfect plan.  I also know that The Covenant did have you.  An assassin named Julia Lockley disappeared around the time you reappeared.  The description my source gave me fits you."

Sydney sat down on the edge of the bed, letting the information sink in.

"Did you say assassin?"

"Yes.  I would suppose that means you aren't as white hat as we assumed."

Sark paused, waiting to see if Sydney would acknowledge what he had discovered.  She didn't seem too surprised to hear that she was an assassin.  Had she already had a clue?  That completely threw him off track.

"Julia Lockley.  You'd think it'd ring a bell or something.  But nothing.  My mind is still completely blank."

Sark jerked his tie off, waiting for her to finish.  He'd had to step back into the proper Mr. Sark persona again, tie and all.  He had to be professional.  

"Where are we going next?  What's our plan?"

"The Covenant's main offices are in Kosovo.  First, I have one more stop to obtain some additional aide."

"Who from?"

"Your mother."

Sydney groaned.  She did not want to face her mother right then.  It always left her with a series of confusing emotions and she already had her fill of those.  Still, Sark was right to stop there.  Irina would help, even if Sydney didn't really want to accept it.  Sydney walked to the mirror, brushing her hands through her hair.

"When do we leave?"

"Now."

Sydney offered him a small smile.  One thing for sure, Sark didn't ever waste time.  She retrieved her purse and turned.

"Then let's go."

Sark followed her to the door, glad she didn't protest about the trip to see Derevko.


	5. Information

**_Little Child Lost_**

**_Chapter Five_**

**_Information_**

Sark scanned the area.  The mansion was exquisite, not that he was surprised.  Irina had never been the type to live unstylishly.  She wasn't big on hiding out, either.  Sydney seemed surprised and Sark attributed it to her not knowing Irina very well.  He enjoyed Buenos Aires.  It was a fairly light and airy city, busy but not overly so.  He knew it was Irina's favorite city as well.  He'd poked around and discovered her whereabouts and here they were.  She wasn't expecting them.  He wasn't sure how she'd take them appearing unannounced on her doorstep.  He hoped that since he'd brought Sydney along with him, she wouldn't be nearly as angry or wrathful.  He double-checked the perimeter for guards, but found none visible.  He guided Sydney up to the porch and rang the bell.  They waited and listened, but no movement came from the inside.  He could pick the lock, but he imagined there were several guns trained on the door and at the moment, he wasn't inclined to be shot.  Sydney was uncomfortable next to him, he could almost sense the tension emitting from her body.  She looked like she was ready to bolt down the pathway.

"I guess she isn't here.  We should probably go."

Sydney turned on the porch, but Sark grabbed her arm before she could descend the stairs.

"No.  Irina is here.  Just wait."

Sydney slumped in defeat and returned to her original position.  Sark bit back a small smile and rapped on the door.  Irina finally opened the door halfway.

"Mr. Sark.  How lovely of you to show up unexpectedly."

Her distaste towards his manners was obvious.

"Don't bite, Irina.  I brought you a gift."

Sark pushed the door open wider so Sydney was no longer obstructed from view.

"Sydney!"  Irina stared at her daughter, a mixture of emotions at seeing her lost daughter running through her.

"Your father told me you'd returned and that you had gone on the run with Sark.  I didn't really believe that you would, but apparently I underestimated his charms."

Sydney folded her arms protectively in front of her, wishing she were anywhere but on the verandah in front of her mother's mansion.

"I do hope you'll invite us in, Irina."

Irina stepped back with a mocking look, allowing their entrance.

            Irina had sent them to a parlor inside the estate.  Tea was served immediately and Sark couldn't help but want to chuckle at the three of them having afternoon tea together.  Sydney stood out in the situation, clearly uncomfortable and he almost felt sympathetic towards her.  Almost.  Irina sat in a wing back chair regally.  She seemed like she was observing a scene of mere mortals in front of her, a knowing smirk on her face.  She wrapped her delicate hands around the porcelain teacup, waiting for her to ask.  Sydney didn't know what she was supposed to ask and Sark knew he would have to request everything for her.  Sydney was surprisingly dependent on him.  Sure, some of her spunk had returned, but she still didn't know how to cope with all the changes that had occurred.

"We've been looking into Sydney's disappearance.  I've discovered some information on Julia Thorne."

"What about her?"

Sark exchanged a look with Sydney, who appeared as unsure and distrustful as he felt.  If Irina didn't know that Sydney was Julia Thorne, he didn't know if he should share the information with her.

"She worked for The Covenant the same time Sydney was gone."

"I've heard of her.  She killed Andrian, you know."

Sark had rarely been shocked in his life.  He prided himself for being prepared for just about anything.  He never expected to hear that Sydney had murdered his father.  His eyes involuntarily rushed to Sydney's frame and the guilt was evident on her face.  He wanted to kill her and tell her it was all right at once.  He'd have to talk to her about this another time.  He was not going to let Irina know how much she'd disturbed him.

"I wasn't aware of that.  I was looking for more information on her and The Covenant."

"I heard that they were responsible for your release."

"They wanted my inheritance, I assume.  I escaped when the NSC swooped in and messed up the entire plan the CIA had devised.  I escaped along with Sydney.  I thought you said Jack told you about it."

Irina's mouth upturned in a condescending smile.

"He only told me you'd disappeared with Sydney.  Jack never gives me more information than he has to."

"Well, you can't really blame him, Irina."

Sydney hadn't spoken since they'd been seated.  She finally broke into the everlasting word game the other two continually played.

"We need more intel about The Covenant.  What do you know, Mom?"

Sydney's tongue stumbled over the last word and she knew it was no secret that she used it as a play to touch Irina's heart.

"Sydney, I do not know much.  For the most part, the Covenant has managed to stay under radar.  It was founded shortly after you disappeared.  The organization is quite extensive with reaches all over the world.  The headquarters are in Kosovo.  No one is sure who the head is, thought Burmani is suspected of being him.  My bet is he is only a red herring much like Alexander Khasinau was for my organization.  They are known for their brain washing techniques and from what I've gathered; they have several of Rambaldi's inventions that could possibly be how their brain washing is so advanced."

Irina stopped, nearly out of breath after that speech.  Sark waited to see if she had anything else to add.  She seemed to be finished.

"Excellent.  Now, we are short of weapons at the moment since we haven't had a chance to contact an arms dealer.  Could we possibly purchase some from you?"

Irina shook her head.  "You may have your pick of my weapons.  I have a wide-ranging selection upstairs.  I will not let you buy them.  Sark, you were my right hand man, and Sydney is my daughter.  I will give them to you."

Irina motioned for a guard to take them upstairs to the weaponry room.  Irina stood with the other two and moved towards Sydney.  She looked like she was about to hug her daughter, but stopped herself at the last minute.  She smiled at Sydney.  "I am so glad you're back, Sydney."

Sydney nodded in acceptance and followed Sark up the stairs.

            After the pair left, Irina scrambled to her cell phone.  She dialed the number she knew by heart and waited for the connection to be completed.

"Bristow."

"Jack, it's me.  Sydney just came here to my house.  She was with Sark."

"Are they still there?"

"No.  They just left.  They're on their way to Kosovo.  They're trying to find out about The Covenant and a Julia Thorne."

"I'll follow them there."

"Jack, Sark won't appreciate being tracked."

"Neither will Sydney.  Thank you for the information."

"I knew I had to tell you.  She looked well.  Do you think she is okay?"

"I don't know.  But we have to stop them from infiltrating The Covenant.  It could be too dangerous for her."

"Because of Sark or because of the organization?"

"Both."

Irina paused. "I miss you, Jack."

He didn't reply at first.  She could hear the tense silence ringing through the air.  

"I miss you, too."

Jack disconnected before she could reply.  Irina snapped her phone shut and sighed.  She'd have to go on to Kosovo as well.


	6. Silence

**_Little Child Lost_**

**_Chapter Six_**

**_Silence_**

Sark slammed the car door, his attitude resembling a two-year-old who was just told he couldn't have a cookie.  Sydney had withdrawn into herself and they hadn't even left Irina's property.  Sark was speechless for once in his life.  He wasn't sure how to react to the news Irina had provided.  He started the engine and waited for it to warm.  He doubted the engine would be able to head up with the frigid atmosphere reflecting in the car.  Sydney was wringing her hands nervously, as if she was positive he would pull out one of the Glocks from the backseat and shoot her.  Sark didn't know if he should talk to her or completely ignore her.

"Sydney…"

She stiffened at his voice.

"You knew about Julia Thorne's little meeting with my father, didn't you?"

Sydney hesitated, not sure what the right answer would be.

"Yes."  There was no use lying to Sark now.

"You didn't feel the need to share that with me that you already knew about Julia Thorne and that you murdered my father."

"I didn't know Andrian Lazarey was your father at first."

"I have been completely honest with you since we ran away from the CIA and The Covenant.  You couldn't show me the same courtesy?" He kept his voice steady, which almost magnified his anger.

"Well, what did you want me to say?  Oh, Sark, by the way, I killed your father 8 months ago."

"It would have been a start.  Better than letting Irina Derevko throw it at me.  I wasn't expecting it.  Irina had the upper hand for a minute.  Bloody Hell, Sydney, you could have shown me a little respect, even if you don't really have any for me."

"Well, I didn't know about your relationship with Lazarey.  I didn't even know my relationship with Lazarey."

Sark pulled out, his hands gripping the steering wheel.  He stared straight ahead, still feeling surprisingly unstrung.  He sped up, going at least fifteen miles over the speed limit. He felt like flying down the road.  The sooner he got away from Irina, the better.  He hated Sydney at the moment.  She'd killed his father, a man he'd hardly had the chance to know and she hadn't had the decency to even mention it to him.

"Sark.  I am sorry I murdered him."

Was he supposed to reassure her now?  'Oh, Sydney, it's okay.  It's not a big deal.'  Not likely.  But a little voice in his head said to him mockingly, "**_You've done much worse to her.  You killed one of her best friends and put in a clone, you kidnapped and tortured her other best friend, and teamed up with Arvin Sloane to make her life a living Hell._**  **_How did he have any right to be angry?"_**  Now he was having a debate, passion and reason were battling.  Unfortunately, reason was winning out.  He decided to say something in the neutral territory.

"You didn't know what you were doing, necessarily.  I won't kill you over it until we find out more about what happened to you.  Now I really do not feel like discussing it any farther, so let's not talk at all."

Sydney nodded solemnly, for once not arguing with him.  She sunk down into the seat, remaining silent.  She stared at the passing trees and waited impatiently for their arrival at the airport.

            Jack pulled Weiss into a conference room when he passed by.  Weiss jumped in surprise from the motion and prepared to fight.  Lucky for him, Jack was the one standing there.

"I found out through my sources that Sydney and Sark are heading to Kosovo.  I intend to meet them there.  I'd like to have some back-up and I think that you might work out.  You think that Sydney had reason to run off with Sark, so you won't report my intel to the others."

"What about Vaughn?  Or Marshall?"

"Marshall is hardly dependable for back-up in battle and Vaughn is concerned about that NSC wife of his.  He'd tell Miss Reed in an instant."

"You underestimate Vaughn's dedication to Sydney."

"Maybe what it was two years ago.  Not now.  Perhaps I overestimated your dedication to my daughter."

Jack's face remained stoic, as if it didn't matter to him if Weiss helped or not.

"No.  I'll help.  I was just suggesting some others who may be willing."

"I see.  I plan to leave in two hours.  Be at the airport."

Weiss nodded, feeling only slightly torn.  What was it about Sydney Bristow that made agents around the world break the rules for her?


	7. Arrival

**_Little Child Lost_**

**_Chapter Seven_**

**_Arrival_**

Sark's mood hadn't improved considerably since leaving Buenos Aires.  Sydney did her best to stay out of his direct line of fire, only speaking when he spoke to her.  Sark wondered briefly if Sydney had lost all of her spunk.  It hadn't occurred to him that part of her silence came from a deep well of guilt bubbling inside of her.  She was horrified at what little she knew of her last two years and she dreaded what else she might discover.  Every little piece of the puzzle her life had become seemed to connect into this horrific picture that no one wanted to view, including herself.  Yet it was something she was drawn to, like being told not to look at it and having to do so just to satisfy her curiosity.  She didn't know how to explain it to Sark.  She wasn't even sure she wanted to explain it to him.  Maybe it was better if he didn't know what she was thinking.  Sark seemed to have a lot of other things on his mind.  Apparently money didn't solve everything, nor did power.  That breakthrough must have crushed Sark.  Sydney closed her eyes, allowing the breeze to ruffle her hair and sweep through her body.  The breeze was comforting, though bitingly cold, since they'd arrived in Kosovo.  She tightened her jacket as a sudden feeling of deja vous rushed over her.  She had a sudden need to run and hide in a hole.  She didn't think Sark would be too fond of that.  She tilted her head up to see what Sark was doing.  He had stopped in front of a window, an odd look on her face. It worried Sydney.  "Sark?  What's going on?"

He shook his head, not speaking, but the look remained.  Sydney slowed her pace to match Sark's.  He seemed to be on a Sunday afternoon walk, not in any hurry, not hiding from a major terrorist cell.  Sydney didn't know if she should prod or not. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn't have bothered her to pry into his thoughts, but after the last 48 hours, she wasn't sure how to act.  She was confused, a feeling she long since despised and was becoming quite accustomed to no matter how hard she fought it.  As a sudden need to fight everything that had happened her, she decided she wouldn't let the subject drop.

"Sark, what's wrong?"

He ignored her, whether it was consciously or unconsciously, and it annoyed her further.

"Mr. Sark, tell me what the hell is making you so weird!"

Sark sighed.  "I've been here before."

"Kosovo?  So?"

"I was a boy."

Seeing Sark as a little boy just seemed weird to her.  She preferred to think of him as just appearing from the depths of Hell, no mother or anything.  Unfortunately, she'd seen that he had a father; so inch-by-inch her enjoyable fantasy was deteriorating.  She studied Sark's face and he seemed to have fallen into a happier time.  Was his childhood happy?  Without a father, as she had heard, but perhaps a mother.  She sighed and rubbed her hands together to keep warm.  Kosovo was cold.  She didn't know if she liked it or not.  It kept her on her toes, which she didn't exactly mind.  Sark continued wordlessly down the sidewalk, but Sydney glanced back at the window he'd stopped at.  A painter was scraping off a previous sign, but she could make out the outline of k's Candies.  "What was k's Candies?"

"Hm?"  Sark seemed oblivious to the words flowing out of her mouth.

"The window said k's Candies."

"It wasn't anything."  Sark grabbed her arm and jerked her away from the street, not wanting her to scrutinize any farther.

****

**_*A ten-year-old boy stood next to a woman, who had long blond curls and crystal blue eyes.  They were very obviously mother and son.  She held a protective arm around the boy, pulling him close to her._**

**_"I know you don't want to go to school, Julian, but you're of the age to be sent to boarding school."_**

**_"Mum, I can attend school in London and still live with you."_**

**_"Darling boy, it is what is best.  Your father insists that you attend."_**

**_"My father insists?  I've never even met him, Mum.  You don't talk about him.  I didn't even think you talked to him."_**

**_"He has been keeping an eye on you, Julian, even if he is not present in our lives."_**

**_"Why do I have to do what he says?"_**

**_"Your father is a very important man and he knows what will be best for you."_**

**_Tears welled up in the woman's eyes as Julian leaned his head against her.  She didn't want to send him away.  She never had.  She was afraid of what would happen to him, to her.  They'd always been together, when no one else was around.  Andrian knew best, though, as he always thought.  He insisted that the Hemry Boarding School would be the best option for Julian.  They had an excellent English department and Julian did love to read.  Andrian had told her about one of the professors there, Irin Dero.  He seemed almost smitten with the woman, which didn't shock her.  Andrian was quite a ladies' man.  She'd fallen for it.  She began walking, intertwining her arm with Julian's.  She had taken him away to Kosovo for a quick vacation before he left for school.   She had a sinking feeling and she knew better than to ignore them.  She wanted to make sure she spent as much time with Julian as she could before he had to leave.  She stopped in front of a store, Sark's Candies.  _**

**_"Let's buy some fudge, Sweet Boy, all right?"  It was more of a demand than a question._**

**_"All right, Mum." He replied dutifully, unable to overlook his mother's sadness.  He followed her into the small room as sugar and chocolate attacked their senses.  He smiled warmly at his Mum as she went to the counter to place her order.*_**

            Jack Bristow paced his hotel room.  He was tired of waiting for Irina to show up.  Weiss didn't know what he was waiting for.  Jack didn't really know how to tell Weiss he'd been in contact with the missing spy for the last two years and had invited her to be part of the mission.  More like she had insisted on being a part of this.  So Weiss sat in a chair, flipping channel after channel, cursing himself for not learning more languages.  Jack grabbed his gun and pointed it at the door when he saw the doorknob turn.

"Interesting way to say hello, Jack." Irina stood in the doorway, looking as beautiful and professional and deadly as always.  Weiss jumped out of his chair, unable to comprehend what was happening.  

"You look wonderful, Irina."

"You too.  You seem tired."

"I've been worrying non stop about Sydney since she disappeared with Sark."

"Even after I told you she was okay?"

"You think I actually believed you?"

Irina smiled softly, almost her patented, know-it-all smirk, but not quite.  Jack glanced over at Weiss, who just stood silently in shock.

"You remember Agent Eric Weiss, do you not?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"You shot me.  Does that help at all?"  Weiss said bitterly.  
"Ah, no, it doesn't narrow it down a whole lot."

Jack closed his eyes in silent prayer, knowing that Irina was joking, but Weiss would definitely not take it that way.  

"Weiss has been a good friend to Sydney since she returned.  He's agreed to help us locate Sydney and Sark and submit to whatever course of action we see fit."

"Splendid.  We should head over to Strasa 9.  We need to scout the area.  The Covenant's headquarters are found somewhere around there.  No one is sure what their front company is, so it's going to be a guessing game.  Come now."

Jack motioned for Weiss to follow her as Jack grabbed an extra clip from his suitcase.  He wasn't sure if he could trust Irina, and he was pretty sure he couldn't trust Sark to take care of his daughter.

            Sydney waited until Sark left to investigate Strasa 9.  She scanned the room for cameras, in case Sark didn't trust her to be alone in the hotel room.  She wouldn't doubt it and in this case, he would be right in doubting her.  She found none, so she grabbed his laptop from underneath the bed and propped it up on the desk.  The briefcase held a complicated lock, but Sydney had faith in her abilities.  She pulled out a couple of bobby pins from her hair and began to work with the lock.  It snapped open easily, but a secondary trigger popped up.  "Password Now."

Sydney nearly cursed.  Password?  She'd never seen Sark use a password.  Maybe the briefcase could detect certain body signatures specific to Sark.  Or perhaps he'd set it, knowing exactly what she would do.  What would he use for a password?  The Man?  No.  Sark?  No.  He didn't exactly have any pets with first names that she knew of.  He probably used something from an obscure conversation that only he would remember. What had he said once?  What had he called humans once? 

****

**_*Sydney was sulking in the chair in the hotel room.  Sark was tired of watching her pout.  She was becoming a little too drama queen for his taste._**

**_"Honestly, Sydney, stop acting so childishly.  So you have no memory of the last two years.   Humans have always been tabula rasa.  Each of us is formed in another's image, another's dream. As children, we are forced to do what we are told to, and as we grow older, we subject the younger generation to the same thing.  You simply are a tabula rasa now.  Be careful of who will mold you, because when you are this vulnerable, someone is likely to take advantage."_**

**_"Like you?"_**

**_Sark smirked boyishly._**

**_"Exactly like me."*_**

Tabula Rasa.  Blank Slate.  "Tabula Rasa."  Sydney spoke it firmly.  The briefcase unlatched.  Sydney smiled triumphantly.  Sark wasn't usually this predictable.  Knowing her luck, this was all part of his ingenious plan. She booted up the computer and started to explore the desktop.  He had several encrypted files, one title Thorne, one entitled Lazarey, one named Julian, one Organization, and one named Elisia.  Sydney didn't know which one to choose first.  Thorne was about her, but what of the others.  She clicked on Julian and a main menu came up.  Sydney clicked on the first box and a picture flicked in.  A little boy stared back at her, with a woman holding him close.  The only thing that gave away his identity was the smirk.  It was still there, even though it was a bit child-like.  Sydney clicked into another file.  It was encrypted.  She didn't have time to come up with the code.  She clicked into the Internet and typed in k's Candies+Kosovo.  She waited for the search engine to find what she was looking for.  **_Sark's Candies Property Finally Bought after 14 Year Vacancy! _**

The article continued on to tell of a woman gunned down buying chocolates with her 10-year-old son.  Then it continued to tell how no one would buy the property until a couple months ago.  There weren't any details, but Sydney had a sinking feeling that this little boy was Julian who was, of course, Sark.  She wanted to read more, but she heard footsteps coming towards the door.  Sydney quickly turned the computer off and locked the case back up.  She slid it under the bed and flopped up on top of it, just as Sark walked inside.

"Sydney…I believe it will be safe for us to break in tonight.  Will you be ready?"

Sydney nodded obediently, not trusting herself to talk.  How horrible for him to have seen his mother die.  If that was what had happened.  She couldn't even be sure.

Sark shut the door to the bathroom and Sydney heard the water turn on.  She sighed loudly.  What was she supposed to do now?


	8. Furtive

**_Little Child Lost_**

**_Chapter Eight_**

**_Furtive_**

Sydney wore black pants and a turtleneck.  She pulled her coffee colored hair back in a slick ponytail and then sat down to wait for Sark to come out of the bathroom.  Sark emerged a few moments later, his hair still wet from his shower.  A few residual drops fell onto his forehead as he loaded several of the guns he'd taken from Irina.

"We'll break in through the roof.  Room 47 holds all the records and The Covenant's main server."

"Room 47."  Sydney said incredulously.  "You have no idea how sick I'm getting of that number, 47.  What makes it so special?"

Sark gave her a tight-lipped smile before tossing her one of the handguns.

"We should only have to take down a couple of guards.  As far as I know, everyone else is gone by midnight."

"By take out, you mean…"

"Sudden qualms about murdering people now?"

Sydney blanched, but quickly covered it.

"Yes.  I have absolutely no reason to kill these guards."

"I did mean just take them down temporarily."

Sydney nodded, fighting the urge to be embarrassed for asking that question.  This was Sark she was talking to here.  It was a possibility that he intended to kill the useless guards.  She raised her eyes to meet Sark's and they were completely clouded.  She'd fallen off that pedestal men seemed to place her on; she was no longer the center of his respect and admiration.  She was just another assassin/spy to him now.  Someone so much like him, as much as they both hated to admit it.  She almost felt sad for losing that respect.  Sydney could feel the loss emanating off Sark, only it wasn't Sark.  He was Julian Lazarey; the lost little boy who saw his mother murdered in front of him and was deserted by his father.  She shouldn't be dissecting Sark's behavior a few minutes before a mission.  It would do her absolutely no good.

"Bloody Hell, Sydney, are you listening to a word I've said?"

She'd gotten lost in his eyes and she'd forgotten he was going over the mission specs.

"I heard."  She answered, though both of them knew she was lying.

"Is your head in the game?"  
"This isn't a game to me, Sark, this is my life."

She stood, realizing she hadn't really answered his question, just added a statement.  Sark seemed to take her words at face value, lucky for her.  He opened the door from the hotel room and they hurried away.

            Irina stood on one roof alone, though she could make out Jack and Weiss' figures across the street.  They had decided to scout the area, waiting for Sydney and Sark to make their grand appearance.  They decided it would be easier to spot them form an aerial view.  They'd split up, but each had a high tech walkie-talkie to keep them in contact with each other.  All three of them blended into the darkness, perhaps because they belonged there.  That was a little too philosophical for Irina right then.  She should be focusing on the objective.  The wind blew in strong gusts and Irina glanced up at the sky to judge the weather.  The clouds were dark gray and Irina hoped desperately it wouldn't rain until after this was done.  All her hope was dashed when the sky opened up into a downpour.  She was soaked in an instant and she cursed the cold precipitation.  She imagined Jack was doing the same.  The heavy torrents of rain would impede their vision; maybe even make them miss Sydney all together.  They were being sneaky and the rain would help wash away any sign of them.  Granted, it would help Sydney's mission, but not Irina's.

**Irina!  Are you all right?**

**Yes.  This is going to make finding them a horrid mess.**

**I know.  Just keep watching**

Irina didn't answer, only turned her eyes back on the road.  Two figures walked down the street, each completely silent and quite furtive.  

**Jack!  I see them!**

**Where?**

**They're heading towards the textile mill.**

**Did you hear that, Weiss?**

**Loud and clear, Bristow.  I'm on my way down.**

**Me too!** Irina chimed in.  She jogged away from the ledge and made her way slowly down the fire escape.

            Sydney crept across the roof stealthily and stopped in the center.  The rain put a crimp in their plans because it would make it harder to cut open the roof for an entrance.  She hated using equipment in the rain like that.  She hated not knowing what happened to her even more.  She pulled out the saw and prepared to make the first incision.  A loud clap of thunder accompanied the cut, so it covered the additional noise.  Maybe the pounding rain would be helpful.  The sawing might not even alert the guards if the storm kept blowing.  She shivered, despising the wet and cold that Kosovo brought.  Finally, the hole was cut, so she glanced up at Sark.  He had been watching her work with a faraway look covering his face.

"Sark!  Come on!"

He snapped out of his daze, even tried to cover that he had been lost in his thoughts.  He tied a rope to the ledge and shimmied his way down the opening.  Sydney followed suit and landed roughly on the ground.  She surveyed the room for any guards and she half expected the James Bond theme song to play in the background.  Dun dun dada dun dun dada dun dun dada.  Sydney smiled at the thought while waiting for Sark to slide the messenger bag over his shoulder.  He motioned for her to follow him.  Sydney did so as they walked through a door and down a narrow corridor.  Sark stopped in front of a white door, a small black plate next to it on the wall that read 47.  Sark removed a descrambler from the bag and placed it next to the keypad.  The code sprang up and he quickly punched in the numbers.  He held up his arms before Sydney could enter the room, blocking her path.

"There's an infrared alarm that will go off if we enter the room.  I need to disarm it before we go in there."

Sark slipped in through the corners of the room, staying close to the wall, where the rays didn't hit.  He reached up to the camera-looking object and removed the casing.  He snipped the red and yellow wire, than called to Sydney.

"It's clear.  We have eight minutes until the guards will be on this floor doing their regular checks."

Sydney rushed into the room, going straight for the filing cabinets.  Sark and Sydney had agreed he would download the computer files while she looked through the papers.  Sark was better on computers than she was, even she admitted that.  Sydney picked the lock, coinciding with Sark hacking into the computer system.  He slipped a disk into the drive and began to download the files.  Sydney flipped through folder after folder until she saw one labeled LAZAREY.  She pulled out the miniature camera hidden in a compact and snapped photographs of every page inside the file, including the one about Julian Lazarey.

"I've got the disk ready.  Let's go."

Sydney shut the cabinet, careful to relock it.

"There wasn't anything on Julia Thorne."

She sounded completely disheartened.  Sark wasn't sure what he was supposed to say.  He wasn't used to trying to make others feel better.  In fact, the only person he ever remembered trying to make sure they were happy was his mother.  

"There might be something on this disk, Sydney."

Sark slipped it into a protective cover and placed it inside his jacket.

"Two minutes."  Sydney dashed out of the room, Sark following after shutting the door and they hurried back to the opening to the roof.

            Sydney was the first one back up to the outside.  She turned to wait for Sark to emerge, but was shocked to find her father, her mother, and Weiss standing in the pouring rain, seemingly waiting for her as if this were the most normal occurrence in the world.

"Daddy!"

Sark's hand slipped from the edge of the hole when he heard that Jack was up above.  Sydney heard him curse and she knelt down to grab his hand and make sure he regained his hold.  Sark pulled himself up and glanced around.

"Well, isn't this just the perfect family reunion?"

Sydney shot him a look that clearly told him to shut up or she'd throw him off the roof.  Sark replied to that look with a condescending smirk that they all knew so well.

"What are you doing here?"

"Your mother told me where you were headed.  I wanted to make sure you were okay, Sydney, especially since you were with Sark."

"I'm fine, Dad.  We're looking into my past."

"I heard."

Sark glanced at his watch as the seconds ticked by.

"I'm sorry about running away, Dad.  I'm sure you got a lot of heat for it."

"Actually, no, I didn't.  Agent Weiss here did.  Sark did escape under his watch.  He still managed to defend you as well even after he had to defend himself."

Sydney turned towards Eric, throwing her arms around her friend.  "Thank you, Weiss."

Weiss opened his mouth to speak, but Sark cut him off.

"As much fun as this conversation is, we should move it elsewhere.  Out of the rain and away from the guards who are making their way to this room right now."

The others realized what Sark said was true, so each climbed their way down the roof and followed Sark and Sydney to the hotel room.


	9. Disappear

**_Little Child Lost_**

**_Chapter Nine_**

**_Disappear_**

Sydney was shivering from being soaking wet.  She stood behind Sark as if she wished he would protect her from the conversation that was about to take place.  Not that she actually would admit it or that she believed he would protect her.  She took a defensive position, her arms folded across her chest to block out the cold and the negativity.  Jack remained standing, casing the room for escape routes and potential traps.  Irina stretched languidly on the one bed in the hotel room, at ease with the current situation.  Eric sat in one of the chairs by the desk, his face conveying his feeling that he was intruding on something he shouldn't be a part of.  Sark seemed comfortable, as if he enjoyed Sydney's distress.  Truthfully, he probably was enjoying it.  Nobody spoke to begin with.  Each seemed to be taking in the new circumstances.

"I am glad to see you are well, Sydney."  Jack spoke, finally.

Sydney shrugged a bit, wishing she could get out of her wet clothes.  They were starting to stick to her body and it was making her want to itch and pull at the cloth.

"Thanks."

"I was surprised that you escaped with Mr. Sark.  CIA was ready to label you a fugitive, again, but Agent Weiss spoke on your behalf.  Dixon accepted it."

"Why exactly are you telling me this?"

"It would be safe for you to return to the United States."

Sydney sighed and stared down at her boots.  She shifted her weight, uncomfortably.  Irina spoke from the bed.

"What makes you believe Sydney wants to return to the States, Jack?  She has made no indication that she wishes it."

Sydney opened her mouth to add in what she thought, but Jack cut her off.  
"What do you suggest, Irina?  She come live with you for a bit?"

"Well, you know how extensive my contacts are.  Sydney and I could pursue any leads concerning Julia Thorne."

Sydney blanched, wondering if Irina did know that she was Julia Thorne.  She tried to remember their conversation before and realized Irina may not know.  But there was no way Sydney could be sure.  Irina was a complicated woman to grasp.  Sydney lifted her gaze, searching for Sark.  She realized he'd glided unnoticed across the room and he was almost to the bathroom.  He was staring at her intensely.  He winked childishly as he quietly exited the room.  Sydney turned her attention back on her parents, feeling a smidge relieved, as she understood Sark's plan.

"First of all, Mom, Dad, I will be the one to decide what I do.  Secondly, can we discuss this after we all dry off?  I'm freezing."

Jack conceded immediately, realizing he'd sort of jumped in without giving Sydney a chance to verbalize her reasoning.  Irina's eyebrow quirked as if she knew what was happening, but didn't want to voice it.  Sydney brushed past her father, into the bathroom.  And on into the connecting room, through the door hidden beside the shower, and on into the narrow hallway, away from her dysfunctional family.

            Sark was in an alleyway behind the hotel.  He was propped against the wall, waiting impatiently as Sydney splashed around the puddles, trying to find him.  She had been pretty sure that Sark would wait for her.  She was pretty sure that escape had been his plan. All she could do was hope that Sark was around there somewhere.  Sark made no move as Sydney rushed past him; he simply waited for Sydney to realize his presence.  She turned as she felt his eyes on her, the penetrating stare Sark was so good at.  "Sark?"

"Finally.   I was beginning to wonder if you would ever arrive down here."

"You never struck me as the impatient type."

"You never thought about me much before, Sydney."

Sydney couldn't deny it, so she simply walked towards him.

"You still have the disk, don't you?"

"Of course.  I don't think your family even knew what we went in after.  That's just as well."

"I know.  Where are we headed next?"

"I was thinking perhaps Whitechapel."

"Whitechapel?  Why Whitechapel?"

"We have no where else to go.  Sydney, we are simply looking through what we retrieved.  It may take hours and I wish to go to a home I am comfortable in.  If you have a problem with it, feel free to leave."

Sydney sighed as her foot started to tap rhythmically.

"All right.  Whitechapel it is.  I still don't know why you won't just tell me."

Sark didn't say anything, just turned away.

"Let's get away from here before your brilliant family discovers that we are both missing in action."  
Sydney followed him down the alley.  
"Sark?"  
"Yes?"  
"Thank you for waiting for me."

Sark glanced away from her, trying his best not to show his discomfort at her gratitude.

"We're partners, for the moment.  Until we find out more, I won't be leaving you behind any time in the near future."

Sydney smiled warmly, feeling like she used to feel, before everything else had happened.

            Jack had finally taken a seat. He was tired of standing up.  Sydney had been in the bathroom for a while.  At first, he thought she might have decided to take a shower, but he never heard any water running.  He didn't want to intrude on his daughter if she was trying to regain control of her emotions, so he waited.  But soon, he began to wonder if Sydney was still there.  He hadn't heard any movement in the bathroom for several minutes.  The room was eerily quiet.  Sark had disappeared, though Jack hadn't minded that leave.  Irina was still stretched across the bed, not speaking, not moving.  Her eyes were closed, as if she planned to stay in the room for the evening.  Eric was flipping through the magazine that had been lying on the desk.  Jack stood once more, and started to walk to the bathroom.  He knocked lightly on the door and received no answer.  He twisted the knob on the white door and pushed it back.  He scanned the small room, and found no one.  It was deserted.  He punched the door, filling the room with a resounding bang.    
"She's gone!"

Irina opened her eyes, lazily, not seeming at all alarmed.  Eric had dropped the magazine, waiting for Jack's instructions.  "What did you expect, Jack?" Irina said softly. "She's running from you as much as she's running from the CIA.  She doesn't remember anything from her last two years.  Sark seems to be the one who can help her the most.  She doesn't want to face you.  And the first time she does after running away, we all jump on, making plans for her future.  It's a woman's worst nightmare.  Her parents tried to take over her life.  Even though it is us."

"Did you know she was leaving?"

"No."

"You don't seem too worried that she is gone."

"I am not.  She and Sark seem to be sticking together at the moment.  Sark has three favorite places in the entire world.  Buenos Aires, which they've already visited.  That marks it off the list.  That leaves Paris and Galway."

Jack's eyes widened, in anger and surprise.  "So all we have to do is visit both places that has several thousand people in it.  No problem."

Irina rolled her eyes.  "Jack, Sark owns several different houses. He has one in Buenos Aires, one in Paris, one in Galway, and if we don't find them there, he also has an apartment in London and a townhouse in Bermuda and a cottage in Whitechapel."

Jack didn't know what to say.  He was speechless.  He seemed to only be that way around Irina.  He processed what she had said and looked at Eric.  "Are you willing to go around the world to look for her?"

Eric nodded.  "Of course.  Sydney became my best friend after she resurfaced."

Jack looked back at Irina.  "Where do we go first?"

"Galway.  He lived there when he was a child for a couple of years."

The trio left the hotel room, going for their plane.


	10. Encrypted

**_Little Child Lost_**

**_Chapter Ten_**

**_Encrypted_**

            Whitechapel was chilly.  Stormy gray clouds covered the sun and the entire atmosphere was kind of dreary.  The surroundings nearly depressed Sydney, but she tried to chalk it up to England's weather.  Sark noticed her shivering, so he turned the heater up in the car.  He turned off on a small path and then pulled in front of a modest size cottage, a home that almost looked welcoming.  Sydney felt almost at home already.  Sark walked up a pebbly path to the entryway.  Sydney followed, anticipating the chance to glimpse into Sark's preferences.  When she walked inside, she was thoroughly shocked.  None of the décor looked like anything she'd imagined Sark would have.  There were lace curtains, a gingham check couch and matching chair, walnut coffee table, side tables, and an entertainment center dotting around the room.  The only thing that looked like Sark inhabited the place was the heavy crystal carafe full of some kind of alcohol.  Sydney felt familiar eyes on her, so she glanced up.

"Do you approve, Sydney?"

"I have to say, this is nothing like I thought your house would be."

"What did you envision?"

"Leather and chrome."

Sark's eyebrow quirked as he began to smirk.  Sydney put her hands on her hips indignantly.

"Oh, shut up, Sark."

Sark kept the smirk on his face as he turned away from her and dropped his messenger bag on the carpeted floor.

"If you must know, I lived in this house as a child.  My mum and I did.  She sold the house when I was five.  I was seventeen when I returned to Whitechapel and the cottage was on the market.  I purchased it.  I proceeded to redecorate the house to what it once was.  Yes, it is possibly my desperate attempt at recapturing my childhood, but I don't really care."

Sydney studied Sark. She'd never really expected him to open up and actually give her a tidbit from his previous life.  She hadn't even expected Sark to explain himself to her.  She didn't mind the confession, though.  Sark turned away from prying eyes.  He had intended to tell Sydney the truth concerning the house, but he cursed himself for having wanted to.  Sydney was making him feel surprisingly comfortable.  He wanted to tell Sydney things, secrets that no one else knew.  He just needed to remind himself that Sydney had murdered his father.  He could already feel himself hardening towards her.  Sydney could tell he was closing himself off, but she wasn't sure why.  There wasn't really anything she could do about it.

"I'm going to begin my search of the disk, Sydney."

Sydney's mind flashed to the pictures she'd taken of the LAZAREY file.  

"I'm kind of tired, jet-lag and all.  I think I'll go rest."

Sark nodded his affirmation.

"The guest bedroom is the first door on your right."

Sydney smiled sweetly as she disappeared down the hall.  She was anxious to find out about Julian Lazarey.

            Irina, Jack, and Weiss pounded on the house in Galway.  They waited for a moment before Jack broke the door down.  Irina strode confidently into the foyer and glanced around.

"They aren't here."

"We haven't even searched the entire place, Irina."

"We don't need to.  They are not here.  Sark keeps his houses impeccably clean.  He always calls ahead and has a maid service come and clean the house before he arrives.  There is a layer of dust on this table and Sark would not be able to take that.  Uncleanliness is not acceptable to him.  He would have had this taken care of."

Jack sighed, realizing Irina was probably correct.  He had to resign himself to the fact that Irina understood the way Sark thought.  She would be their best bet in finding their daughter.  
"All right."

            Sydney waited for the film to finish developing.  She'd made the guest bedroom into a mini-darkroom.  She searched the room for a magnifying glass while she waited for the photographs to dry.  Of all the **_stuff_** Sark had, he had to own a magnifying glass.  She finally retrieved one from the bottom drawer of the nightstand.  Sydney took the first picture and placed it under the magnifying glass.  It was a file on Andrian Lazarey.  Mostly statistics, age, weight, height, hair color, eye color, birthday, age.  

 Job History: KGB, Russian diplomat, undercover affiliation with The Man. 

Family History: Son, Julian Aidan Lazarey, mother Alecksandria Stacia Petrokov.  Moved to various places from Moscow; Galway, Whitechapel, London.  Petrokov murder successful.

 Sydney's eyes widened.  The Covenant had been responsible for Sark's mother's death.  The Covenant had apparently been around for more than two years, like they'd assumed.  Alecksandria's murder had been about fifteen years ago.  Sydney sighed, wondering just how wide The Covenant's reaches went.  Russia, America, Europe?  For so many years?  Sydney wondered briefly how deep her involvement in The Covenant had been.  Had she murdered someone's mother in front of them?  Sydney sighed as she took out another picture.  This one was a picture of an old photograph with young Julian and his mother.  They were in front of an apartment building, but both looked happy.  He next picture was a snapshot of a photograph of young Julian and Sydney's mother.  Sydney gasped.  She'd never really thought about how Irina had met Sark.  In fact, she could say she'd never thought about it.  Sydney wondered about it now.  The photograph had prompted it.  Had Sark become so evil because of her mother?  He'd been scarred by seeing his mother taken from him so brutally, remained impressionable, and then been molded by Irina Derevko?  Tabula rasa, just like he'd said.  As Sydney started to analyze it, she realized something.  Had Irina been affiliated with The Covenant?  All this time or at some point or at all?  Sydney was becoming steadily more confused as she discovered more, not feeling like she was grasping a better understanding of the past.  Sydney knew she'd continue looking over the photographs, though.  She had to.  She was finally to the page that held the information about Julian Lazarey.

Julian Aidan Lazarey, Age 25

So she was right.  Sark was surprisingly young for the business, especially for the talent he displayed.  She continued reading.

Parents: Andrian Lazarey, Alecksandria Petrokov.

Born March 11, 1980

Early Life: Lived with Petrokov until 10.  Petrokov murdered in Kosovo.  Boarding School in London.  

Training: Irina Derevko in charge of training.  Previous KGB, but branched off into The Man.  Julian follow, change name to Mr. Sark.  Derevko's right hand man at age 19.

The file continued on with other known aliases and special talents, languages, known missions.

Capture by CIA 2003

At large as of 2005 with Sydney Alena Bristow alias Julia Thorne

Sydney placed the pictures in a stack and stuffed them underneath the mattress.  She should make another appearance in the living room.  She'd been back in this room for several hours.

            Sark cracked his knuckles and rolled his neck.  He was feeling awfully stiff from sitting in front of his laptop for such a long while.  What he wouldn't give for a good massage.  He hadn't gotten any further on the disk.  It was a challenge.  Most of the files were encrypted and he had to give The Covenant that.  They could really write an encryption program.  Of course, it was giving him a little too much trouble.  He stared at the screen, black and mocking as he pressed a few more keys.  He jumped when he felt hot hands touch the back of his neck.  He hadn't heard Sydney come in, though he instinctively knew it was her.  His heart rate quickened and he hated it.  He hated how he reacted when Sydney was near.  He felt like he didn't have any control and she was hardly even touching him.  She spread her fingers gently and stroked his neck.

"You're tense."

"I've been sitting here for hours, Sydney."

"I know.  I've been here, too."

Sydney knew why she'd changed her behavior towards Sark.  She felt so much sympathy towards Sark after everything she'd discovered about Julian.  She could even see him turning evil.  Irina had a gift in bringing the bad side out in everyone.  Sydney imagined Sark was confused by the change in her behavior, but she didn't really care.  She looked down and decided Sark didn't either.  His eyes were shut and she could see his breathing hitch.  Sydney let her hand run down his shoulder as she turned to lean on the desk.  Sark's eyes popped open and the look on his face was completely priceless.  It was honest, no game face in sight.  Sydney liked it.  Unfortunately, his visage clouded over and he was Mr. Sark again.

"Did you have a nice nap?"  He was being so polite.  Sydney was beginning to get tired of him and his manners.  He could brutally murder someone in cold blood without flinching, but he always made sure to be polite.  He needed to get his priorities straight.

"Yeah.  Did you find anything on the disk?"

Sark shook his head, though he looked far from being defeated.  Another major personality trait of Mr. Sark.

"No.  The Covenant is just too bloody adept at making encryption software at the moment.  I'll decode the software.  It's just taking me longer than I'm accustomed to."

Sydney nodded, but couldn't stop smiling.  
"What?"  Sark snapped.

"Since when have you cared if I smiled at you or not?"

"Like that, I do.  It's like you have some kind of secret.  I don't like it."

Sydney said mischievously, "You're just tired.  You're beginning to see things."

Sark blinked, trying to avoid the sleep that was threatening to overcome him.  Sydney was right.  He was tired, but he knew he wasn't seeing things.  He could read Sydney Bristow fairly well.  And he knew when she was up to something.

"Sleep, Julian."

His head snapped up in surprise.  She shrugged off the look he shot her and acted as if there was nothing out of the ordinary in calling him Julian.

"I can work on decrypting the disk while you sleep."

Sark shook his head, denying the need for sleep.  Sleep was a weakness.  Sydney was feeling impulsive.  She suddenly wanted to nurture Sark, take care of him.  It was ridiculous.  Sark didn't need anyone to take care of him.  He was perfectly capable.  He probably didn't want anyone to.  And she knew she shouldn't want to.  Still, Sydney bent down and kissed his cheek softly.

"Go."

She didn't know if she should have kissed him or not.  It wasn't really a big deal, but considering their relationship, it might be.  Sark stood, so apparently it wasn't an issue, at least not one he would discuss.  

"I'll be in my bedroom if you need anything.  It's the door at the end of the hall."

Sydney took Sark's chair before he could change his mind and then watched his retreating form.  She sighed before beginning her own search of a key to the software.


	11. Break

**_Little Child Lost_**

**_Chapter Eleven_**

**_Break_**

****

            Irina headed into the London flat.  She already had the feeling no one would be there.  Jack followed her surprisingly obedient.  He hadn't complained much about following orders from her.  That shocked her.  Jack was generally very vocal about his displeasure in taking orders from Irina Derevko.  Weiss remained impartial, though occasionally she could catch a wave of bitterness from him.  Possibly because he had been accidentally shot by her.  She hadn't intended to shoot him, though it had proved even better as a distraction.  One agent down and the whole operation fell apart.  She could feel Agent Weiss' eyes on her, so she sent him a tight-lipped, condescending smirk.  Weiss bit on his lip, narrowing his eyes.  If they were looking for anybody else but Sydney, he would have disappeared long before this.  But he'd become attached to Sydney.  He'd spent hours with her since she'd returned.  Sydney had practically become his best friend, his drinking buddy.  She was better than Mike was.  Whenever he was down about something, she always put it in perspective.  At least he remembered the last two years.  He tried to calm himself.  He knew Irina was testing his patience and he refused to let her win.  He wouldn't retaliate.

"Looks like you were wrong again, Derevko."  Weiss said, a little more smugly than he'd intended.  Irina didn't seem to be anymore irritated at him.

"So it seems."

Irina scanned the lavishly furnished apartment. 

"We can stay her tonight.  Tomorrow-tomorrow we'll go to Whitechapel.  It's not far from London.  And he just might take Sydney there."

"Why?"  Jack asked, curiosity overcoming him.

"He has a cottage there.  He used to live there when he was a boy.  His mother owned the house.  He bought it when he was seventeen, when I raised his salary considerably.  I don't know why I didn't have us check there first.  Sark would take Sydney somewhere he felt safe.  He feels safe in Whitechapel."

"Why don't we go there tonight?"

Irina shook her head.

"We'll wait until the morning.  They won't be leaving anytime soon."

"How do you know?"

"Sark likes to spend a long period of time in Whitechapel.  He feels closer to his mother that way."

Irina had always pretended not to notice Sark's reliance on his mother's memory.  He would retreat in them when he was exhausted and sick of everything that had happened.  She never scolded him because she understood.  She did the same, retreating into the recollections Laura Bristow had filed away in her mind's cabinet.  Sydney was who she thought of when she got too stressed.  Her little girl and her husband that adored her.  She was a murderer, a liar, a cheat, but she was never hypocritical.  The only thing she worried about was what Sark would do if he found out the truth.

"We'll leave in the morning."

Irina walked away from the two men, heading into Sark's familiar bedroom.  They could fend for themselves when it came to finding a place to sleep.

            Sydney was becoming discouraged.  She and Sark had been trying to crack The Covenant's code for three days and they'd hardly made a dent.  She was beginning to wonder if they would ever find out about Julia Thorne's persona, other than being a cold-hearted murderer.  She switched places with Sark at the computer, giving him a chance to work on it again.  She thought she would go cross-eyed from staring at the computer screen and she wouldn't be surprised if her hands froze in keyboard position.  Sark hadn't spoken much the last couple of days.  A few attractive grunts were about all she could pry out of him.  Sydney usually liked his silence, but she needed something to break the tension between them.  Anything, actually.  They sat in complete quiet, with only the annoying tapping of keys breaking it.  Sydney watched Sark's face, deciding the view of him was 47 times better than staring at the ERROR message on the laptop.  Sydney watched as the smirk emerged on his stoic, serious face.  His eyes were suddenly crystal pools sparkling at her as his smooth British voice said in triumph, "I'm in!"

Sydney felt excitement and relief and dread surge inside of her.  She jumped off the couch and threw her arms around Sark.  It wasn't something he'd expected and he wasn't sure how to react.  The hug seemed very uncharacteristic since Sydney had a deep distaste of him.  Sark finally wrapped his arms around her, allowing the warmth to overcome him.  Sydney pulled away and glanced back at the computer.

"I thought if I never looked at another computer screen again, I would be happy.  I was wrong."

He reclaimed his seat and she leaned over his shoulder as he began clicking on the folders, the blue glowing on both of them in the dark.


	12. Vanish

**_Little Child Lost_**

**_Chapter Twelve_**

**_Vanish_**

            Sydney sunk to the floor as the gravity of everything she'd just read washed over her.  She wanted to curl up in a ball and cry.  Or, the more appealing, punch Sark in the face.  She didn't want to know all that she had learned.  She had previously wanted to, but now she realized that there was a whole new level of too much information.  Sure, the biography was useful.  It told her of all the horrible things she'd done the last two years, unless the file was a complete lie.  Not that she would put it past The Covenant to lie.  Not that she put it past Sloane.  Yes, Sloane was the recent head of The Covenant.  Apparently, since he constructed Il Dire.  He was like the head priest in some sick and twisted evil cult.  That was probably the least surprising thing she'd read.  Humanitarian, her butt.  She sighed, well aware that Sark was watching her.  He was always watching her.  Always.  Sark slid down from his chair, leaning against the desk once he hit the floor.  He licked his lips subconsciously and Sydney couldn't take her eyes off of them.  Sark didn't speak at first.  It was like he always knew when to give her a chance to process information.  He waited for her to meet his eyes, an unspoken sign that she was ready to begin the conversation.  She finally did, her eyes the color of the whiskey in the carafe.  He'd had his own shock, learning about Julia Thorne's life.  Andrian Lazarey was alive and in hiding.  Of course, The Covenant knew where he was.  The Covenant knew just about everything, it seemed.  

"I was an assassin."

"Yes.  We already knew that."

"An assassin that didn't kill your father."

"Yes.  He probably has more information that can help us."

"About me or about you?"

Sark averted his eyes, not willing to let her see how vulnerable he was.  Talking about his father was like an open wound; one that he had believed had cleared up long ago.  When he was taken under Irina's wing.  He shrugged his shoulders, no matter how uncharacteristic it was.

"Maybe both of us."

Sydney nodded, pushing her brown hair off her face.  She took a deep breath and continued her statements.

"They brainwashed me."

"Yes."

"And they performed an 'unidentified surgery' on me."

"Apparently."

"And Sloane was the one who ordered it all."  
"Indeed."

Sydney narrowed her eyes, annoyance flicking on her face.

"Can you add more into it besides affirmatives?"

"Yes."

A boyish smirk appeared on his face, his enjoyment of her irritation only making it worse.  He didn't clear his face of the emotion and Sydney decided the playful expression instead of the game face.  But, eventually, it vanished.

"We have to find my _father_."  He spit the word out with distaste.

"We will."

"We'll have to leave today."

"Okay."

"We need to discern whose side he's on exactly."

"I don't even know which side _YOU'RE_ on."

Sark shifted his position, banging his head on the desk.

"Bloody Hell!  This is why I don't sit on the floor to have heart-to-hearts!"

"Is that what we were having?"

"This is about as personal as I get."

Sydney allowed a small smile to show on her face.  Sark seemed sort of proud he'd made her smile, as if he wanted to see it.  He didn't return the smile, but she hadn't really expected him to.  It was Sark.

"Well, I'm about to get more personal with you, Julian."

He flinched when she used his first name.  He hated it when she called him that.  He was a completely different person now.  Calling him Julian reminded him of a life he'd long left behind.

"What about?"  
"I, uh, found something else when we were looking for the disk."

"You didn't…what was it?"

"A file.  A took some photographs of it."

"And what was it about?"  
"You."

"The Covenant has a file on me?"

"And your mother and your father."

"You have an entire file about me?"

"Yes." 

Sark closed his eyes for a moment, wondering what was in it.

"Will you give me the photos?"

Sydney bit her lip and nodded.  "Yes."

Sark stood up, his posture defensive.  Sark rarely let anything show in his posture or face. But this showed his annoyance and his anger and his distrust and even a bit of hurt underlying in it.  Not hurt that she had read about his past.  More hurt from his past.  Sydney stood as well, unsure of whether to go get the file now or wait.  Sark walked out of the cottage wordlessly, with not another look at Sydney.

            Sark had wandered about the path behind the house.  He was angry Sydney had stolen a file about him.  He'd left the cottage because he'd wanted to punch Sydney.  Fight with her.  Spar with her.  Anything to let out the anger.  But he didn't think Sydney was really ready to fight with him.  She was still in shock from everything she'd read about Julia Thorne.  So he'd left.  He'd stayed outside for an hour; Sydney never came after him.  He hadn't really expected her to.  She probably thought it would be better to give him some space.  She was probably right.  But that didn't matter anymore.  They needed to get out of Whitechapel.  He had a feeling that Irina would be looking for them and she just might decide to come to Whitechapel to check up on them.  He didn't want to be waiting for her to come.  He headed back up to the cottage, opening the door.  He called out for Sydney to come on, but he received no reply.  

"Sydney?"

Nothing.

"This isn't funny.  We've got to get out of here before your mother decides to check here.  Unless you want to relive another excellent family reunion."

There wasn't even any movement in the house.

"Sydney?"  Sark walked to the guest room and found it completely empty.  All that was left was a note, propped up against a lamp, a pile of photographs in front of it.

Julian~

I'm sorry I took the file.  I just wanted to know what's been going on with you.  I should have told you, I guess, since we seemed to have this whole new trust thing going on.   I'll see you around…

~Sydney

Sark cursed inwardly as he crumbled the paper up.  He picked up the photographs that held his life story, flipped through them and dropped them on the floor.  She left.  What happened to them finding out together?  What was he supposed to do now?  He guessed it was a race again, who could find Lazarey first.  He gathered the pictures back up, hurried out the bedroom door, stopping to pick up his laptop.  He rushed out the front door, finding his Mercedes parked in the driveway.  He jumped in and pulled out.


	13. Finding

Little Child Lost 

**_Chapter Thirteen_**

**_Finding_**

****

            Sydney was alone now.  She regretted leaving Whitechapel, but she wasn't going to retreat.  She hated to admit it, but she missed Sark's company.  He almost always had an ever-present smirk, those mischievous blue eyes and that annoying know-it-all attitude.  It made her feel more confident in everything since she returned from her hiatus.  Still, she knew that she'd made the right decision by leaving.  She'd become more dependent on Sark than she'd been on anyone else and she knew how truly dangerous it was to depend on him.  She knew that leaving would be good for both of them.  They needed a break from each other.  She was headed to Vatican City now.  Andrian Lazarey was there, according to The Covenant's file.  She intended to be there before Sark.

            Sark was on his private plane flying towards Vatican City.  He knew Sydney would be going there.  Hopefully, the head start wouldn't help her beat him to Lazarey.  Sydney was on her own now.  He was on his own now.  He hated that he'd gotten so attached to Sydney.  He didn't form attachments.  He didn't need company during his travel.  He had never needed anyone.  He had simply had a brief break from relying on himself.  He'd allowed himself to semi-trust someone and he knew better now.  Twice she'd kept something vital from him since they'd escaped.  He had hardly kept anything from her.  He despised telling her anything, but it was a bit late to have kept those secrets.  He would go back to his usual way of life.  It was better.

            Irina opened the painted blue door to a small, homey cottage.  She could still smell Sark's scent.  She also knew he was gone.  She suppressed a smile, wondering how long it would be until Sydney and Sark reached Lazarey.  She had no idea they'd discovered he was alive.  Her children, biological and surrogate, were incredibly bright and well trained.  She'd planted what she had intended into their minds and set into motion what was to come.  Sloane would not be pleased, which was only an added bonus.  He shouldn't discover their findings until after the two had found Lazarey.  She hoped that was the case.  Sloane would have Lazarey killed before they got to talk to him.  Then the only person left to tell the entire story was her.  And there was no way that was happening.  She let Jack and Weiss look around the cottage, only to find nothing.  

"He was here.  But they're gone.  I'm not sure where they could have gone."

"To another one of his houses?" Jack questioned.

"I doubt it.  I believe it would be best if we all returned home for the time being, until we receive more information about their whereabouts."

Jack eyed her suspiciously as he quietly wondered if Irina was being straight with him.  She seemed to be hiding something, but not enough to call her on it.  Still, he had this feeling that Irina knew something she wasn't telling him.

"All right. I'll contact you if I hear any more.  I expect the same courtesy from you."

"I would expect no less."

Jack made motions to Weiss, who followed him out the door.  As soon as they were gone, Irina pulled out her cell phone.  She dialed a number carefully and placed the phone up to her ear.

"Hello.  Yes, they're off.  I'll be needing a plane to Vatican City immediately.  Yes.  Good bye."

Irina allowed herself a thin smile.  She would find them.  Soon.

            Sydney tied the ponytail holder around her braid before stepping out of the cab she'd hailed.  She stared up at the tall stone building, angels perched on the ledge of the roof.  She wasn't sure if it was hospitall or a church or just an elaborate apartment building.  She didn't much care, as long as Andrian Lazarey still inhabited a room there.  She opened the door confidently and tapped on the desk with impatient fingers.  No one came to the front desk and Sydney was starting to lose any inkling of patience she'd had previously.  Finally, a tall man with thick black hair and green eyes came to the desk.  He studied her before speaking, as if trying to place her.  She didn't recognize him, not that it meant anything.  He could be anyone Julia Thorne knew and she'd never know the difference.

"Hallo, Signora.  May I help you?"  His voice was heavily accented with Italian, not shocking considering she was in Italy.  
"I was looking for a man who's staying here.  Aidan Petrokov.  I was wondering which floor he was on."

"Mr. Petrokov is on floor five, room fifty.  Go on to the lift, Signora.  I'll make sure Mr. Petrokov is aware of your arrival."

Sydney's eyes flashed and she grabbed his hand to stop him from picking up the phone.

"Thanks, but I'd rather surprise him. I haven't seen him in a long while."

The clerk nodded acceptingly, though his eyes betrayed his real thoughts.  Lucky for him, Sydney was distracted with the prospect of seeing the man she'd supposedly murdered.  She unbuttoned her coat as she headed towards the elevator shaft.  The clerk stepped back, and found his own cell phone. 

"Sir.  Yes, she's arrived.  I sent her up to him.  She's alone.  Yes, Sir."

He hung up and slid the phone back in his pocket.  Then he pulled out the gun hidden in a desk drawer and cocked it.

            Sydney knocked on Room 50, hoping that Lazarey wouldn't recognize her right off.  If he did, he might not open the door for her.  She didn't want to barge in, either, because he might take it the wrong way and refuse to talk with her.  The door swung open and an older man stood before her.  His face showed his surprise at seeing her there, so apparently he recognized her.

"Julia…"

Sydney bit her lip, debating whether to tell him that she was Sydney again.

"Actually, my name is Sydney Bristow.  Julia Thorne was my-"

"Persona for two years.  Yes, I know.  I just wasn't aware that you had your memory back yet."

"I don't have my memory back.  That's why I'm here.  I need to ask you some questions.  For the longest time, I thought I had murdered you.  I saw a surveillance tape that showed your murder.  Then I found out I didn't kill you.  It was just a big cover up.  I don't know why we covered it up, why you're alive, or who I was other than an assassin.  I need you to tell me.  Please."

Lazarey stepped back, allowing her to enter the apartment.  He seemed nervous, but not exactly weary of her.

"Did anyone follow you?"

"No.  But The Covenant knows where you are.  That's how I found you."

"They know?"

"Apparently."

That seemed to spook Lazarey. 

"We have to leave."

"They haven't gone after you before.  Why would they go after you now?"  
"You found me.  They'll do anything to stop me from telling you."

"Telling me what?"

"I-"  A firm knock interrupted Lazarey.  He looked like a deer caught in headlights, since obviously he didn't have visitors very often.  Sydney cocked her head, wondering if he was even going to answer the door.  Lazarey pulled out a gun and double checked to make sure it was loaded.  He cautiously opened the door with the gun raised chest level.

"Now, now, Daddy, is that any way to greet your long lost son?"  Lazarey stepped back in surprise.


	14. Fire

**_Little Child Lost_**

**_Chapter Fourteen_**

**_Fire_**

            Sark stepped inside the apartment, his gun pointed at his father.  He took a quick inventory of the room and immediately leveled his gun on Sydney.  She placed her hands on her hips.  

"Oh, seriously, Sark, are we reverting?"

"I thought you wanted to play the game again."

"The game?"  
"At the moment, I'm at a serious advantage over you, considering I have a gun and you do not."

Sydney allowed a small smile to form on her face before she dashed forward and kicked the gun across the room.

"And now you don't, either."

Sark shrugged, showing her sudden move hadn't spooked him at all.  His stance was defensive, just slightly so, but to the point Sydney noticed.  She wondered if it was connected to being in the same room as his father again.  It'd obviously been a long time since he'd seen Lazarey and with all she'd read, he probably wasn't too excited at the prospect of being there.  But heaven forbid he sit this mission out.  

"I'm disappointed you were this easy to catch up with, Sydney."

"Because you prefer the deadly scavenger hunt from before instead of letting it go."

"I have such high expectations for your abilities, this was not one of your shining moments."  Sark pushed on.

"I got your gun away from you, didn't I?"

"Child's play."

"Only in our world."

Sark whipped his arm out as he felt Lazarey move from behind him.  Sydney jumped, realizing she'd let her guard down while bantering with Sark.  She hadn't even noticed Lazarey inching towards the door.  Sark twisted Lazarey's arm, knocked the gun away from him and whirled him around. 

"I'm afraid you can't shoot me and disappear, too many questions to be answered."

"What if I have no answers?"

An evil glint appeared in Sark's eyes, something more primal than Lazarey had seen.  And he'd seen quite a bit of evil.

"I would hope you have the answers, because I'm not known for my incredible patience.  I am, however, known for the techniques I have to make you find answers."

Lazarey's eyes widened visibly, but other than that, he showed no signs of distress any longer.  Sydney eyed both wearily and tried to discern any distinguishing features that had passed between father and son.  They didn't really resemble one another.  Lazarey's nose was sharper, his features more severe than his son's.  But their eyes, they were almost the exact shade of the crystal blue of Sark's, the ones Sydney liked so much. She decided that most of Sark's undeniable looks came from his mother.  Sark was aware of Sydney's scrutiny, but before he could mention it, he heard footsteps.  Granted, the footsteps were attempting to be undetectable but they were failing miserably.  Sark's eyes met Sydney's and the unspoken was passed between them.  Sydney grabbed Lazarey's arm, pulling him to the window.  She opened it quietly and pushed him out to the fire escape.  Lazarey began his descent and Sydney followed just as the door burst open.  She recognized the clerk from earlier as he fired the gun at Sark, who ducked it.  He seized Lazarey's lost gun on the floor and hoped it was actually loaded.  He fired twice, hitting the clerk in the hand, then the knee before sprinting to the window.  The clerk was on the ground, groping around the deflected gun, but Sark was too agile.  Sark was down the ladder and around the corner of the dramatic building before the clerk even made it to the window.

            Sark had taken his 'borrowed' Mercedes and forced Sydney and Lazarey into the car.  Sydney sat in the back with Lazarey, watching him, making sure he made no futile, desperate attempts at escaping.  Sark watched them both in his rearview mirror, examining the defiance and fire in Sydney's eyes.  She was almost pouting at having to go with him, but she realized they'd have to work together again.  He didn't try to speak with her.  He didn't particularly want to speak with her.  She'd probably lie to him anyway.  Lazarey finally asked, "Who was that man?"

"The clerk at the front desk.  My bet is Sloane sent him."

"Sloane?  Or Derevko."

Sark nearly swerved into the other lane, but he remained steady.  Sydney's eyes widened as she jerked Lazarey's arm.  "Derevko works for The Covenant?"

Lazarey's eyes betrayed him.  He looked like he was afraid that he'd said too much, but in Sydney's opinion he hadn't said enough.

"Not exactly."

Sydney took a deep breath, trying to find patience and understanding, to no avail.

"What does not exactly mean?"

"It means she doesn't work directly under The Covenant.  She used to.  With Alecksandria and I."

Sark's ears perked up at the mention of Alecksandria.  But he couldn't possibly be talking about his mother.  She was a normal, good woman who was murdered brutally in a candy store.  He'd seen it happen.  He could still see it happen.  Sydney tilted her head, studying Lazarey.  
"Alecksandria-like Sark's mother Alecksandria?"

"Yes. That is how I met her. Through The Covenant."

Sark bit his lip so hard it drew blood.  He didn't want to say anything.  He didn't want to let the new information affect him.  He didn't want anyone else to know that it affected him.  He'd always seen his mother, worshipped his mother, in this perfect light.   Lazarey was tainting it and he didn't want to hear anymore.

"And my mother worked for The Covenant, too."

"Yes.  When Derevko's father was the head of it.  The Rambaldi Cult has been around for quite a while, my dear girl."

"Can we wait for this, please, Sydney?  We need to be able to concentrate on what he's telling us and I want to ask him a few questions of my own.  But we need to disappear from Vatican City immediately.  No matter who sent the man after us, they'll find out the man failed.  And they'll send someone after us again unless we get out of here."

Sydney sighed, anxious to learn about her past and Sark's as well.  And she wanted to learn about all the twists and lies that she'd been told once again.  But she knew Sark was right, as much as she hated to admit it.

"All right.  Where are we going?"

"I was thinking that Haiti would be nice."

"Tropical climate."

"Perfect for learning about The Covenant."

Sydney smiled at him, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.  Sark returned the same half-hearted smile as he turned off into an airport. 


	15. Veritas

**_Little Child Lost_**

**_Chapter Fifteen_**

**_Veritas_**

****

            Sark apparently had a beach house in Haiti.  It was beautiful to say the least.  The Atlantic Ocean lapped on the sandy beaches, a view that could be seen through the windows on the south side of the house. He liked Haiti.  He felt peaceful and in control there, even when his life was spinning out of his control. Sark wouldn't dwell on the way things were turning out.  He would simply put things back on track, beginning with the interrogation of Lazarey.  Sydney had secured Lazarey to a steel kitchen chair.  Lazarey looked aggravated and uncomfortable, which didn't really bother Sark.  Sydney was seated on a bar stool, sipping a bottle of water and watching the man before her with a studious look on her face.  Sark held a knife and a kerosene torch, a glittering look in his eyes that Sydney didn't miss.  Sark took a chair from the table and sat into it stiffly.

"We'll begin at two years ago.  Sydney disappeared after a particularly brutal battle with her cloned roommate.  She passed out and that is the last she remembers.  We've dug up some information about the last two years, but we want to know what you know.  Sydney believed she'd murdered you, but apparently that is not the truth, seeing as you are alive.  Why did you fake your death?"

Lazarey bit his lip and tilted his head.  He waited for a minute than asked flippantly, "Why do you think I'd fake my death?"

Sark looked displeased.  Sark displeased was not a good combination.  Sark could be smooth, serene, confident, content, angry, just about anything but displeased.  Sark lifted the knife before Lazarey.

"Now, I do not appreciate your answering questions with questions.  I expect answers not childish diversion tactics.  Do answer the question, or I'll have to find a new way to ask you.  Believe me, I won't have any problems doing so.  I'm not particularly fond of you."

Lazarey turned his head to plead with Sydney.  She stared back at him evenly and took another gulp of her water.  She wanted to know as well, so she wasn't about to stop Sark from using his unsavory methods.  She took a brief moment to realize what she was thinking.  Perhaps Sark was rubbing off on her.

"I wanted out of The Covenant.  I was unhappy with the new management."

"New management being Sloane."  
"Yes.  He was a little too I-have-brought-on-the-Rambaldi-works-worship-me for my taste."

"So you discussed it with Sydney…"

"Julia, actually.  She'd been an assassin for several months.  She was starting to have flashes, though.  Flashes of another life she didn't remember.  She couldn't place any of the faces or any of the events, but they seemed like memories to her.  I was high ranking in The Covenant, but I was not informed of the plan to take Sydney from her family and brainwash her.  I believed that she was Julia Thorne for quite a while.  Sloane had it kept from me.  As did Irina."  
"My mother knew where I was this whole time?"  
"Yes, Irina knew."

"Was she a part of it?"  
"Not really.  She was just aware of Sloane's plan.  She knew of the Prophecy."  
"Which was?"  
"I wasn't privy to that information."  
"Seems like you weren't as high up as you liked to think."  Sydney blurted.  
"Yes, so it seems."  
"How high up was my mother?"  
"She was one of the three in the council."

"The council?"  
"Sloane, Irina, and Bomani."

"So she's deeply involved in The Covenant."  
"So it would seem."

"It would seem.  Meaning she isn't."

"I didn't say that."  
Sark shifted in his chair, changing off the subject of Irina.  "How did it come that Julia helped you fake your murder?"

"I agreed to help her recovered these flashes, put names to the faces."

"So she knew where you lived."  
"Before, oh yes.  She helped me set up a new apartment that was supposed to be Covenant Free.  She came to me once a month at different times and days.  We would have gathered new information and we would try to piece it together."

"So you were my friend. "

"I suppose so. "

Sark cut in, "Did Julia ever recover all her memories?"  
"She was on the way.  She'd discovered her father, a man named Marshall and another man named Vaughn."

"Yes?"  
"Then one month she didn't come anymore.  Ever again, actually.  That is until yesterday."

"So you don't know why she was brainwashed?"  
"No idea."  
Sydney slid off the stool and walked closer to Lazarey.  Sark seemed to be nervous about something, though to everyone except Sydney he appeared as serene as he usually was.  Sydney wondered when he was going to ask about his mother.  She imagined that was what was making him so fidgety.  She could understand his turmoil about his mother; she could remember when she was told that her mother had been a KGB spy.  Sark seemed intent on moving on with the interrogation and so Sydney decided not to ask anymore questions.  
"How did you become involved in The Covenant?"  
"I was recruited from the KGB.  I was moving up the ranks in the KGB and was beginning a very public life as a diplomat.  I agreed to join The Covenant and smuggle in secrets from the government, along with information on the everlasting search of Rambaldi artifacts."

"When did you meet my mother?"  
"I'd been working at The Covenant for six months.  I caught a glimpse of her walking into a plush office when I was in a meeting.  I found out everything I could about her and discovered she was the daughter of one of the high-ranking officers.  Alecksandria was beautiful and deadly and I found her absolutely fascinating.  Plus it was dangerous to go after her.  But I did, but Alecksandria was playing me just as much as I was playing her.  After a few months together, she was pregnant with you.  She remained on staff, and even went on a few missions after you were born, though no one knew I was the father.  My political life had taken off, so I couldn't acknowledge an illegitimate child.  Nor could I let The Covenant know I was responsible for impregnating one of their best operatives.  They would have killed me.  So I erased all knowledge of my affiliation with Alecksandria and avoided talking to her at all.  Eventually, The Covenant changed heads and some of the high-ranking operatives were taken care of.  As was your mother."  
Sark let out a loud breath and he realized he'd been holding it.  He'd been grasping on the hope that his mother was alive.  Like Sydney's mother was.  Unfortunately, this wasn't the case.

"So she really is dead?"  
"Yes.  Do you think your mother would have really faked her death in front of you?  She did love you, even though she kept her life hidden from you.  She really was murdered.  By the new management of The Covenant."

Sark kept his face stoic but turmoil raged inside of him.  His mother had been a spy.  She'd gone on missions knowing very well she could be killed one day and leave him alone to them.  Maybe Lazarey was wrong.  Maybe Alecksandria had never cared for her son, simply seen him as a burden.  Sark stood abruptly and stormed out of the beach house, leaving Sydney with a very uncomfortable Lazarey.

            He was walking along the beach.  He'd actually removed his shoes and was walking barefoot in the sand.  He couldn't imagine walking any other way on the beach, though.  He was thinking and watching the crystalline water hit the sand and his feet.  He was angry and confused and he didn't understand anything that had been happening the last few weeks.  He'd become close to Sydney.  He didn't know how to explain it or even want to.  He was used to the cat and mouse game they played, but since she'd returned, she'd been different.  Not in a bad way, just different.  She was becoming strong again, starting to be the woman he remembered, but she seemed to be making exceptions for him.  Help well-known terrorist escape, check.  Go on the run with said terrorist, check.  Steal files, check.  Allow him to torture his father, check.  She seemed to be letting him get away with everything and nothing at all.  She probably understood what he was going through.  And that scared him even more, though he'd never ever admit that he was scared.  He'd always been afraid his mother would be disappointed in what he'd become.  A terrorist, a spy, a murderer, a thief, a con artist.  She'd always seemed so perfect and good to him as a child; he could almost see her disapprove of his life now.  Perhaps that was a testimony to her talent as a spy in a worldwide evil organization.  She had him fooled and he'd lived with her for years. But that could also be attributed to childhood naivety.  Every child saw their parents as the perfect human being, in his case, a mother only.  She no longer held that hold over him.  She was a murderer and a terrorist just like he was.  Just an earlier time.  She'd been killed because of it.  She'd disregarded him, had no concern for what could happen to her if she remained an operative of The Covenant.  She knew the dangers and when she'd had him, she should have stopped.  But she couldn't and didn't and she had been murdered in front of him.  He almost blamed her for her own death, which was pathetic in a way.  

"Julian?"  She whispered his name.  He turned, stunned that someone had been able to sneak up on him.  He'd been so lost in the thoughts of his mother and Sydney that he hadn't even realized Sydney was standing behind him.

"Yes?"

"Are you all right?"

A small, ironic laugh escaped him.

"Of course.  Why would I not be?"

Sydney stared at him, knowingly.  Of course, she'd heard all of this only a few years before.

"I asked him about it.  I didn't have to.  I could have just let my mother's memory in peace and continued my hatred for my father.  But now I simply hate both of them."  
"I know."

Sark changed the subject quickly by reprimanding Sydney.  "Did you leave Lazarey unguarded?"  
"Only for a moment."  
"He could be gone."

"No.  He isn't."

"How do you know?"  
"I just do."

Sark began his ascent back up the sandy hill to the house  "Sark!"  
"What, Sydney?"  He burst out.

She shied away from him, not exactly afraid, just realizing how much space Sark was going to need.  Sark had always seemed emotionless, nearly brainwashed.  He didn't feel anything.  He never acted like he did.  But he seemed quite distraught now, not that she blamed him.  It was simply messing up her image of Sark; it was pushing him into the Julian Lazarey persona.

"I'm sorry."

Sark nodded and walked on into the house.

            Irina leaned back in her chair.  They had gotten Lazarey.  She could imagine he was speaking to them about her involvement in The Covenant and in the next few days she would expect a visit from them.  Sark was talented, but predictable in her mind.  Of course, her teaching him everything probably had something to do with it.  She wondered if Andrian would broach the subject of Alecksandria.  That poor boy would be crushed at the information of his mother's involvement.  Then again, Sydney would be there to comfort him.  She allowed a thin, slightly sadistic smile to appear on her face.  


	16. Forced

**_Little Child Lost_**

**_Chapter Sixteen_**

**_Forced_**

            Arvin Sloane wanted to toss his overpriced headset across the room.  He'd just received the news that his incompetent lackey had failed in killing Lazarey and preventing Mr. Sark and Sydney from taking him.  Now he was going to have to do damage control.  He honestly should have had Lazarey killed two years ago, when he became uncomfortable with the new change of command.  Irina had talked him out of it, claiming Lazarey was harmless.  'Oh, Sark doesn't even want to have any contact with his father.  And it's not like Sydney knows about him.'  Last time he ever listened to Irina Derevko.  They would probably go to Irina, after they learned of her involvement in The Covenant.  Or perhaps they would come after him, because inevitably they knew he was involved.  He doubted they would come to him first.  They would likely bide their time and go to find out everything else they could from Irina.  And she would likely tell them, simply because she wanted to see Sloane scramble to stop them.  Of course, she always wanted to take over The Covenant.  She was one of the Council, all she needed was for him to die and she could take it over.  Bomani probably wouldn't fight her on it.  Sloane called down for a plane.  "I need to go to Buenos Aires."

            Sydney and Sark decided to let Lazarey go.  Sydney sincerely believed Lazarey had told them everything he knew, and she said they didn't need the extra weight tagging along.  The Covenant would be looking for Lazarey, but not necessarily them.  Sark conceded, realizing the logic Sydney had presented him with.  On the upside, he wouldn't have to see his traitorous father anymore.  So he'd unhandcuffed Lazarey and let him go.  Then Sydney and he had hopped a jet to get to Buenos Aires.  There was always hope that Irina didn't know about Lazarey's kidnapping, though unlikely.  They both realized they were probably deluding themselves, because Irina seemed to know everything that went on around the world.  So they sat uncomfortably on the plane, Sydney still trying to digest the sudden show of emotions Sark had and Sark trying to digest the news about his mother.  

"Sark?"

"What?"  He snapped at her.  He rarely snapped.  He'd snip, banter, snark, just about anything but snap.  Sydney sighed and began to twirl her hair in a nervous, unconscious motion.

"Are you going to be able to do this?  Confront my mother?"

"Of course I will be able to."

"Well, you've been off-kilter since Lazarey talked to you."

"Wouldn't you have been?  I believed my mother was good this whole time.  I'd been so afraid she'd be ashamed of what I'd become, but apparently not.  She'd probably be proud, pat me on the back, and say it was in the genes."

"I understand what it's like.  The same thing happened to me four years ago.  And I was useless for a few days."  
"I will not be useless.  I should be used to finding things out like this."

Sydney unbuckled her seat belt and scooted towards the couch Sark was sitting on.  She reached out tentatively, her hand touching his just slightly.  Sark flinched, as if the kindness hurt him.  He probably hadn't had many kind touches lately.  

"I don't think you ever get used to it.  I haven't.  And believe me, I've had some pretty shocking things done to me."

She interlocked her fingers with his and brought her other hand to cup his cheek.

"I suppose I'm not alone in that.  Project Christmas, mothers being evil, fathers being completely distant."

"You were a part of Project Christmas?"

"Not exactly."  Sark seemed to be closing off some.  She could see it happening, as if it were completely physical.

"No.  Don't do that, Julian.  Don't start something and then shut me down.  I won't use it against you, if that's what you're worried about."

"I'm supposed to believe that, Sydney?"

She nodded earnestly and forced him to look her in the eyes.  His blue eyes were tumultuous and shockingly vulnerable at the moment.

"I went to boarding school in London after my mother died.  Irin Dero was an English professor there."

Sydney's eyes flashed as recognition hit her.

"My mother was your English professor?"

"Yes.  My father had me sent there, because of the woman.  I guess they'd been colleagues or something before.  Maybe my mother had wanted me to go, after all.  She must have known Irina.  Anyways, Irin Dero gave me some much special training and by the time I was fourteen, I was a first-rate spy.  So it was a version of Project Christmas."

Sydney leaned forward suddenly, kissing him.  She'd been ecstatic he was sharing a bit of his past with her and after seeing him so vulnerable and confused, she'd given into what she'd been wanting to do for a while.  Sark's lips were warm and sweet, tasting like wine.  He returned her kiss with as much passion as she'd put into it, but then suddenly pulled away.  He didn't look at her, he couldn't.  "I need to get back to work."  He pulled out his laptop without another glance to Sydney.  She didn't force him to talk to her anymore.  She skulked back to her seat, almost ashamed that she'd kissed a wanted assassin. 

            They arrived in Buenos Aires around one in the morning.  Neither seemed to be tired, in fact, they seemed wired.  Sark led Sydney to Irina's house and instead of ringing the doorbell like they had previously, they decided to sneak in.  Unfortunately, they didn't realize they were being watched.  The man stood above the house, on a small hill.  He pulled out a phone.

"Mr. Bristow?  They've arrived at Ms. Derevko's house.  Do you want me to go in?  All right, Sir.  I'll let you know if anything changes.  I'd hurry, though.  They may be gone before I realize it.  No, I'm not raising my price, I'm simply basing my opinion on past experience I've had with Mr. Sark.  Thank you, Sir."

            Irina had already crawled into bed.  She was reading a book peacefully when she heard a noise come from the kitchen.  She smiled to herself as she knew that it must be Sydney and Sark.  She'd been expecting them to come any minute.  They wouldn't announce their presence, since they apparently thought they could sneak up on her.  Sark should know better.  She was always hyperaware of her surroundings and if anything seemed off, she would investigate.  She waited there, placing a bookmark into her book.  Sark appeared in the doorway, Sydney close behind.

"I was wondering when you'd make it back here, Julian.  You're a bit later that I'd predicted."

"Family reunions can be a bit draining, Irina."

Irina lowered her eyes, "You know, then."

"About my mother?  Yes.  My father was very informative on that front.  But that isn't why we came."

Irina shook her head as she slipped out of the bed.  She wrapped a robe around her body before continuing the conversation.  
"No, I didn't think it was."

"How long have you been working for The Covenant?"

"Several years, dear boy.  I was 33 when I was recruited by your mother's father."

"And you decided to worship the work of Rambaldi."

"I don't worship anything.  I simply acknowledged that Rambaldi was a genius and a prophet and decided to join The Covenant to bring forth his works."

"Sounds like you worshipped him to me."  Sydney said from the background.  Irina didn't respond, simply waited for the next question.  Sydney brushed past Sark, leaving an awkward tension between the two.  Sydney gazed at Sark for a moment, Irina picking up on it immediately.  He shot her a look, a mixture of heat and ice, confusing to Sydney and Sark both.  Irina allowed the satisfaction of knowing she'd been right about the two wash over her before Sydney continued the questioning.

"You knew where I was the last two years!"

"I knew you were the woman in The Prophecy, Sydney.  I knew that Arvin planned on using you for it.  I wasn't aware that you were to be brainwashed, though, until after it had occurred.  I couldn't change it after that, so I simply let things play out the way it was told."

"And you pretended that you didn't know about me being Julia Thorne."

"Yes.  What did you want me to tell you, Sydney?"

"Maybe why I was kidnapped and brainwashed.  What this unreal Prophecy is.  How you could let it happen.  How you were a member of The Covenant.  I could continue if you would like, but I believe you understand my point."

"Yes, I do."

Sydney turned to Sark.  "Did you know she was a Covenant member this whole time?"

Sark seemed surprised at her sudden turn on him.  She hadn't even asked him about it before.  She hadn't even let on that she suspected he was in on it.  Now she decided to do it in front of Irina.

"No, Sydney, I didn't.  I didn't know about The Covenant at all until you were ready to ship me off to them."

Sydney bit her lip so hard it drew blood as she considered what Sark had said.  She didn't know if she should believe him.  She wasn't even sure why she'd decided to ask Sark if he'd known about Irina.  She'd just been asking Irina about all the betrayal she'd put Sydney through and suddenly Sydney wondered if Sark was in on it.  For all she knew, he was part of The Covenant as well.  But he proved a point.  He hadn't looked forward to being given to The Covenant, so he mustn't have known.  Sydney nodded at him and turned back to Irina.

"You mentioned The Prophecy a lot, Mom.  What is it?"

A noise from the doorway alerted all three inside the bedroom.  

"Yes, Irina, do tell us what The Prophecy is."


	17. The Passenger

**_Little Child Lost_**

**_Chapter Seventeen_**

**_The Passenger_**

****

****

            "Yes, Irina, do tell us what The Prophecy is."

Irina looked only slightly irritated that Jack Bristow had come through the door, demanding to know the prophecy.  She never let things faze her, that would show a weakness she couldn't afford.  Jack wasn't supposed to find out that she was part of The Covenant.  She'd only just started to gain his trust and when he found out that she'd known where their daughter had been all along, he'd arrest her and send her back to prison.  

"Jack…"

"Don't start this, Irina.  Just tell us about The Prophecy, so I can help my daughter get her life back."

Irina didn't notice the mistakable my in that sentence.  Irina gripped her comforter, an action that only went noticed by Sark.  Irina was nervous.  She was upset, which could only be used to their advantage.  If she was that uncomfortable with Jack Bristow in the room, she'd be easier to manipulate.  That is, if she wouldn't voluntarily give up the information they needed.

"The prophecy speaks of the woman who will bring forth the Passenger."

"What is the Passenger?"

"A child."

"Whose child?"  Jack asked cautiously.  Sydney suddenly felt obsolete, with her father taking over the entire interrogation of her mother.  It wasn't that she wasn't glad to have her father there, but she and Sark had planned on taking care of it. 

"Sydney's."  

The bottom of Sydney's world dropped out.  She instinctively touched the scar on her abdomen, realizing what must have happened.  She started to crumble, but Sark was there, supporting her, holding her up.  His hand found hers and he squeezed it.  There was no longer any pretense of the self-assured assassin in him.  He didn't care if Irina and Jack saw his weakness-Sydney.  

"I have a child."

"Yes."

Sydney wanted to attack her mother.  Her mother had kept her child from her for months, not even letting on that Sydney had one.  She pretended like she wanted to help Sydney discover her past, but it turns out Irina only wanted to protect the Passenger, the Rambaldi calling.  

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

"Boy.  You named him Rogan."

"Where is Rogan?"  The name seemed unfamiliar on her tongue, no matter how hard she tried to recall him.

"Safe."

"Safe with Sloane?  With a bunch of insane Rambaldi followers?  Away from me?  You tell me where my son is, or I swear to you, I will kill you."

Sydney pulled out a gun, cocking it before leveling it on Irina.  Sark stepped back, never having seen Sydney this ruthless.  He sort of liked it, seeing a whole different side of Sydney.  Irina shot Sark a helpless look as if she thought Sark would bail her out of this.  Obviously she hadn't seen that show of weakness he had allowed.  Irina then turned her gaze on Jack, hoping he would stop Sydney from killing her cold-bloodedly.  Jack didn't look anymore inclined to save her than Sark did.

"He's in Geneva."

"With Sloane?"

"Yes."

Sydney dropped her gun and turned to Sark.

"Julian-"

"We'll go find him, love.  Don't worry."

Sark glared at Irina.  "You looked at me like you thought I'd save you.  You keep something like this from us again and I'll help her kill you."

Sydney smiled softly, surprised at Sark's show of loyalty to her.  Only a few months ago, they'd still been enemies, hardly even trusting each other, his loyalty belonging to Irina.  Now he was loyal to her.  Sark took her arm and guided her out of the house, leaving Jack behind to talk to Irina.

            Sydney was so silent.  She was in shock that much Sark could see.  He wondered briefly if this was worse than finding out she'd been missing for two years.  Her eyes were full of unshed tears as the seriousness of what had happened struck her.  Sark slid to her carefully, not wanting to scare her.  He reached over to clasp her hand and she jumped.  "I didn't ask her any of the questions I should have.  I didn't ask her what Rogan had to do with the prophecy, I didn't ask her who the father was; I didn't ask her anything important.  Just his name and his gender.  I don't know why I didn't."  

The regret was coming off of her in waves.

"You were in shock."

"You didn't ask her any of it."  Her tone had turned from remorseful to accusatory, which Sark didn't appreciate.  It put him on the defensive.

"I know a little bit about The Prophecy.  Not a lot.  Just that the Passenger will render the greatest power as he's brought into it.  I didn't know the Passenger was to be a baby, nor did I know it was to be your baby."

"He'll have great power?"

"Yes.  He is supposed to be raised in it.  I imagine that when we get Rogan away from Sloane, he may not even fulfill that destiny."

"We?"

"Yes, we.  Did you think I would desert you and your son?  To be controlled by Sloane.  That man is an absolute annoyance and he should never raise any child."

"I don't know.  You may have already known about Rogan.  You may have been in on the plan to keep my son away from me.  Everyone else seems to be."

"I honestly had no idea about your son or his connection to The Passenger until Irina mentioned it.  Sydney, there's nothing I can say that will make you trust me, and I'm not accustomed to begging.  But whether you trust me or not, I will not let anything happen to your little boy."

"My little boy.  He can't be more than a year old.  I had to be reconditioned and then to carry a child to term, at least 12 months.  He's a baby and he's already been drug into the entire Rambaldi mess."

"We were immersed in Rambaldi since we were young and we turned out all right."

A small laugh escaped Sydney's lips, a beautiful sound if not tinged with such irony.  

"Did we?"

Sark smiled for a moment before conceding.  
"Together we balance each other out into a perfectly normal human being.  As far as Rogan is concerned, he is a baby.  We'll get him away from this before he'll be able to recollect anything.  As for the questions you never asked, I'm sure your father will.  We can contact him when we reach Geneva."

Sydney allowed the tears to spill over and stream down her face.  Sark pulled her to him; no longer worried about the pretenses they'd set up.  He wanted to help Sydney.  Nothing else really mattered.  She buried her face into Sark's chest.  "I hate this, Julian."

"I know, Love.  We'll fix this, I promise."

Sydney clutched his suit, attempting to relax.  Sark would protect her son.  She could sense it, even if it didn't match any of her previous knowledge of him.  He would keep her safe and her son as well.  And that was all she could really ask for.

            Jack paced angrily in front of Irina's bed.  The feeling of Irina's betrayal had pushed into his entire body, every fiber of his being painfully aware that he had been fooled by that woman again.  He hadn't felt like this since he'd found out that Laura was really a KGB agent sent to steal secrets from his bed.  He cursed himself for allowing himself to trust the conniving woman again.  He had shared information with her, believing that she was sharing the same pain he had been when their daughter had turned up dead or missing, whichever they preferred at the moment.  He was thankful that he'd at least started having her estate watched.  If he hadn't gotten that vibe off of her in England, he would never have had the house watched.  She had seemed like she was hiding something and rightfully so.  At least he had trusted his instincts in that area.

"Jack, I didn't want you to find out this way."

"You didn't want me to find out at all, Irina."

She couldn't deny it.  He wasn't supposed to know yet.  Now Rambaldi's Prophecy may fall to pieces.  Sydney and Sark would find little Rogan and Jack would have her arrested or killed once he discovered all he needed to about The Passenger.  All the same, she knew he would be in no mood to play games with her.

"How old is this boy?"

"A year and four months."

"Who is his father?"

"Rambaldi.  We discovered some of Milo Rambaldi's genetic material.  Three and a half months after Sydney's reconditioning, she was impregnated with it."

"What is his purpose?"

"To come into the power of the world."

"World domination.  Not too original and everyone puts so much stock in Rambaldi's being some major prophet.  Where is he being held?"

"Geneva.  There's a small apartment not far from the Omnifam building.  Sloane watches Rogan there with his live-in nanny, Gracielli.  She's a loyal follower of Rambaldi, higher up, but not high enough."

Jack paused, "Not high enough for what?"  
"To be in the Council, but she is high enough to care for The Passenger."

"Can Sydney get to the boy without much problem?"

"She'll have to break in.  There are guards," Irina hesitated, deciding not to mention that Sloane would be on careful watch since Lazarey was abducted, "but nothing Sydney can't handle.  I can work out a simple plan for her."

"I think you've done enough planning to last several centuries."

"Jack, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the child or that Sydney was safe."

"I don't want to hear your pathetic apologies.  You're a part of The Covenant."

Irina didn't know if it was a statement or a question.  Her heart was beginning to break as she saw the hurt on Jack's face.  He was trying desperately to hide it, but he couldn't, not from her.  She knew Jack Bristow far too well.

"Yes, I am."

Jack turned on his heels.  He stopped in front of the doorway.  
"Don't try to stop Sydney from retrieving her son.  If you do, I will have you arrested and charged with the various counts of espionage you deserve."

"Jack…" Irina edged her way to the door.  
"Do not contact me again unless Sydney or Rogan's life is in danger."

Jack was gone before Irina could even whisper another apology or to accept his demand.


	18. Splattered

**_Little Child Lost_**

**_Chapter Eighteen_**

**_Splattered_**

****

            Sydney remained in the backseat of Sark's parked Mercedes while gathering all the information she could from her father.  Her dad had told her where Rogan was being kept and to watch out for the guards and Gracielli, the woman who was raising her son.  Sark had brought up some blue prints on his laptop and devised a plan to tell Sydney as soon as she hung up the phone.  She did, quickly, once she saw that he had something ready.

"What did you find?"

"Blueprints to the building your father told us about.  I'm going to head in, but you have to stay in the car and work on comm. for me."

"I'm going in to save my son.  I'm not leaving it up to _you."  _She said it venomously and if Sark wasn't giving her special allowances for what she was going through, he would have punched her right then.  Instead, he let his reasonable voice win out.  

He spoke calmly, "Gracielli may know what you look like, as well as the other guards.  I may be able to slip in without much commotion.  Besides, you're too emotionally invested in this mission. It's only going to get you caught."  
"I don't care if I'm caught."

"The entire mission will have been a waste and a failure.  My missions are neither."

"I can't just sit here-"

"Sydney, you must.  I will get your son if you will follow my instructions."

He turned to her and cupped her cheek with his hand.  
"I know you don't, but you have to trust me.  Just this once."

Sydney lowered her eyes, then pushed his hand from her face, almost disproving what she was going to say.

"All right."

A smile never seen on Sark's face before shone through.  He looked like he'd been given a new car or a new gun.

"Wonderful.  Now, I'll need you to…"

            Sark entered through the back of the building.  An emergency staircase was located there, one that he could use discreetly as long as Sydney disengaged the alarm like he'd instructed.

"I see the entryway."

"Give me five seconds.  It's almost disarmed."

Her voice was all business again.  Sark admired that she was trying to be professional.  He knew how scared she was; of Rogan, of The Prophecy that involved the Passenger, of him even.  He also knew she would make it through everything, because she was Sydney Bristow.

"Go on, Sark."

Sark gingerly touched the door handle.  So much was riding on this mission.  His and Sydney's future.  Her son's.  He pulled the door open and nothing happened.  He was relieved, but he remained on edge as he ascended the staircase.  One guard stood on the floor Rogan was kept on, blocking the door.  Sark slowed his footsteps, attempting to stop the echo in the empty corridor.  Still, the guard knew someone was in there.  He wished he could lie and say he was heading to his own apartment, but with an elevator and a main staircase, any guard worth his salt would realize it was a lie.  Besides, an alarm should have sounded when he came into the stairway.  Sark pulled out his gun and continued his climb up the last flight of stairs.  The guard charged him, but Sark easily pistol-whipped him.  Sark brought his knee into the man's stomach, chopped him in the back of the neck and tossed him down the stairs like he was a rag doll.  One guard taken care of.  Hopefully the others would be just as easy to get through in a short amount of time.  He didn't want a challenge this time.  He just wanted to get in and out.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah.  Just a guard blocking my way."  Sark adjusted his earpiece before opening the door and walking down the narrow hallway.

            No guards stood outside the door, which astounded Sark.  Sloane would have used extra manpower to protect the Passenger.  Sloane would give up his whole life for the Passenger.  There would likely be more in the room and no doubt Gracielli would be able to fight.  She was close to the Passenger, which meant Sloane trusted her explicitly.  Sark broke the door, gun cocked, but no one rushed him when he walked in.  In fact, no one was in the room at all.  The only thing that gave Sark any hope was a baby's wail.  Gracielli stood in the center of a nursery, leaning over a handmade crib.  Sark fired his gun before she had a chance to turn and fight him.  The bullet hit its mark in the center of her chest.  Sark hurried to the baby.

"Is he there, Julian?  Did you find him?"  Sydney sounded incredibly anxious.  Sark gazed down at the child who had blood splatters all over him.  His eyes were amber brown, eyes that reminded Sark of Sydney.  The baby stopped crying the moment he saw Sark and lifted his chubby arms up to him.

"He's beautiful."  Sark breathed, intending for Sydney to hear.

"That he is."  A voice said from the doorway.

Sark didn't turn, realizing it had all been a trap.  He'd known it was far too simple for him to reach the Passenger.  

"I was wondering when Sydney would come after him.  I'm surprised to find you doing her dirty work."

"I hardly call bringing Sydney her son back to her dirty work."

"She's managed to enthrall you, Mr. Sark.  I'm shocked.  How long have you been sleeping with her?"

Sloane was taunting him.  No one taunted Sark.  Sark kept his irritation towards the man in check, keeping his entire stance impassive.

"I'm surprised that you changed your loyalty so quickly, " Sloane continued.  "First, it was always about you, but now you're sacrificing everything for your bedmate."

"I'm hardly sacrificing everything, Mr. Sloane."

His accent was smooth and calm as he inched unnoticeably towards Rogan.

"Whatever you say.  You know, your first mistake was taking Lazarey.  I knew Lazarey would lead you to Irina.  Of course, he probably also told you about Alecksandria's and Irina's connection."

Sark flinched as he continued his slow move towards Rogan.  Sloane was likely trying to prey on his paranoia after finding out his mother had been evil.  Rogan started crying at that moment.

"Mama-Mama-Mama-Mama…"

The cry broke Sark's heart as odd as it was.  The boy had touched a string in his very closed off heart.  Still as much as he wanted to pick Rogan up, it didn't annoy him.  The baby's cry reminded him of why he was doing all this.  However, the sound began to grate on Sloane's nerves.  It distracted him enough to give Sark a chance to pull out his gun.  Sark fired twice, hitting Sloane's leg and firing hand.  Sark jerked Rogan from the crib and ran out the door, flying to the stairs.

"Get ready, Sydney.  I've got him.  He's okay."

Sark hefted him up as he descended the stairs two at a time.

"Good boy, Rogan.  You're already an espionage genius, my boy."

Sark ran straight to the car and jumped in before Sydney sped away.

            Rogan saw Sydney in the driver's seat and squealed.  He still recognized her.  Who knew how long she had been missing from his life?  Sydney's face lit up in genuine pleasure and she pulled over quickly.

"Julian, trade me.  Let me hold him, please."

Sark nodded and they switched places quickly.  Sydney cradled Rogan, noticing the blood sprinkled over him.  She wiped the blood away, but only served to smear it.

"What happened to him?"

"When I killed Gracielli her blood splattered on him."

Sydney nodded and snuggled into his baby powdery scented head.  She kissed the top of it and glanced back at Sark.

"I have to say something to you that you will likely never hear from  me again.  Thank you."

Sark laughed and Sydney realized that she'd never heard him laugh before.

"I'm glad I could help, Love."


	19. Return to the Former

**_Little Child Lost_**

**_Chapter Nineteen_**

**_Return to the Former_**

****

            Sark pulled into a hotel after they passed the German/Swiss border.  Rogan had fallen asleep in Sydney's arms, only making occasional gurgling noises.  Sydney stayed quiet also, content to watch her son.  He had a fluff of brown hair and milky white baby skin and the most fascinating face.  His mouth was small and pink and formed a perfect O as he slept.  His cheeks were flushed and the rosy color met with a perfect button nose.  His eyelashes curled across his cheeks, hiding haunting chocolate colored eyes as he slept peacefully.  Sydney was amazed at how beautiful her son truly was.  She hefted him onto her hip as Sark checked them into a hotel room, then carted him up to the room.  Sark knew they were the picture of a perfect family; an adorable couple with an adorable child.  Sark almost wished it was true.  Sydney placed Rogan into a crib of pillows since the hotel offered nothing for him to sleep in.  She curled up on the bed, but not to sleep.  She stared at Sark for a moment.

"I'm going home tomorrow."

"No.  You aren't."  His denial was simple and direct and if it were anybody but Sydney, it would have offered no room for argument.

"Since when do I have to do what you say?  I'm tired of running.  I just want to go home."

"It would be both idiotic and fatal.  You're going to have to get over your homesickness, Sydney."

"Why do you think it's going to be fatal?"

"You take Rogan to Los Angeles and Sloane will be waiting for you. He's going to expect you to return."

"I thought you shot Sloane."

"I did.  In the leg and the hand."

"You didn't kill him?"

Sydney sprang to her feet, careful not to wake Rogan, but clearly showing her outrage.

"No, I-"

"Whose side are you on, exactly?  Why didn't you kill him?"  Sydney exploded.

"He knows a lot more about The Prophecy, more than the rest of us.  If I'd killed him, we would have lost all our answers with him."

"Or maybe you're part of The Covenant.  Maybe your job was to seduce me and force me to trust you.  Maybe you were only trying to put The Prophecy into action.  You didn't tell me about The Passenger being a part of The Prophecy."

Sark's eyes flashed like lightening.  He'd risked everything to help Sydney and this was what he was getting in return.

"Oh, now that's a bloody brilliant plan.  I've known about Rogan all along.  Of course.  The Covenant obviously knew my charms would overcome your severe hate of me.  See how well it worked."

Sark narrowed his eyes, a deadly look playing on his features.  He'd allowed himself to open up a degree to Sydney and she twisted everything around on him.  He'd become attached to Sydney and now he was paying for it.

"You want to get yourself and your son killed, go ahead.  You're on your own now, Sydney.  That's what you wanted, isn't it?  Get out of this room.  You can take the car, but just get the hell out of this room before I decide to kill you myself."

Sydney took a step back.  She hadn't expected Sark to react this way.  She knew she had pushed him, but she had though he would deny her accusations.  Maybe she had been right.  The old Sark was back now, so it didn't matter either way.

"If you come back to the United States, Sark, I'll have you arrested.  And I'll see you executed."

Sark turned his back on her, folding his arms across his chest.  Sydney took the keys on the desk and lifted Rogan gently from the bed.  She stalked out of the room and slammed the door.  Sark didn't even watch her leave.

            Sark sank into the armchair, cursing himself for allowing Sydney to worm her way into his heart.  He didn't care about people.  That feeling had been burned out of him at a young age.  Irina had made sure of that.  He'd had no problems, no sudden crisis of conscience.  He did what he did and had no problems with it, unless it was completely unchallenging.  Still, vulnerable and beautiful Sydney fascinated him; so obsessive about being good, yet she bordered on the line between good and evil.  In a sense, he intended to corrupt her and in a sense, he intended to raise himself above thoughtless evil.  Somehow, everything was mixed up and they were enemies again.  Sark leaned his head back and closed his eyes.  Well, he didn't care anymore.  He would return to being his former self and he wouldn't give Sydney a second thought.  Things were back to normal; at least normal for him.  If Sydney wanted to be stubborn and get herself killed, that was her problem.

            Sydney broke into her house.  Sadly, she no longer had a key to her own home.  The house was easy to get into which both relieved her and disconcerted her.  She was an agent.  It should be harder to get into her house that a couple of good lock picks.  She pushed the baby carrier she'd bought with her credit card in through the window then climbed in herself.  She'd stopped on the way home and had resisted the urge to use the money Sark had set up for her to use.  She wouldn't use the money, that would make him think she needed him.  That was the last thing she wanted him to think.  It'd only inflate his ego.  Sydney surveyed the room.  The house looked exactly the same, like she hadn't left it for a couple of months.  It was almost extraordinary that every room looked the same.  She flipped on a light, the glow flooding the room she stood in.  The light woke Rogan and he cried a helpless cry.  She picked him up and began to rock him, but her own tears of relief and distress mingled with his.  She wasn't doing a great job of comforting him; she only upset him more.  She began to walk with him.  She froze when she heard a gun cock behind her.  All she could think was that Sark had been right.

"Turn around slowly."

Sydney did so, shielding Rogan as she did.  

"Sydney?"

Weiss dropped his gun immediately and rushed forward.  He threw his arms around her but found that something was impeding a good hug.  He saw the child in her arms, but didn't ask about it yet.

"I heard a noise over here, so I wanted to make sure no one had broken in."

"Well, I did, technically.  I lost my keys while I was gone.  It's good to see you, Weiss."

"I looked for you with your father and Irina after you snuck out in Kosovo."

"Yeah.  Sorry about that.  Sark and I needed to work together, without you guys."

Weiss nodded, not in understanding, but in acceptance.  He wouldn't pretend like everything Sydney did made sense, but he would stick by her in the end.  He smiled boyishly.

"Okay, so maybe I'm bringing up the obvious, but you have a little boy with you."

"Yeah.  I had a child a year and four months ago.  His name is Rogan."

"Who is the father?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

"Milo Rambaldi."

"Forget I asked."

"Forget I answered."

They both laughed and Rogan stopped his crying.  In fact, he added in his own childish giggle that won Weiss over.  No matter how this child was conceived, he was adorable.  

"Can I hold him?"

"Sure."  Sydney passed him over to Weiss, who began to bounce him.  

"Hello, Rogan. My name is Eric.  You can call me that.  Or Uncle Eric.  Your mommy is my friend and I hope I can be yours, too."

Rogan buried his head in Weiss' shoulder, showing his answer.  Weiss grinned.  

"He's wonderful, Sydney."

"I know."  Her smile was that of pure mother's pride, something she was allowed.  The air became serious again as Sydney stopped smiling.  
"You can't tell the others at the CIA about Rogan.  They're going to want to study him.  And I won't let that happen.  So please don't, not yet.  I have to come up with a good story for Rogan's background before I show him off."

"All right.  I won't say a word."

Weiss paused for a beat.  "Did you find what you were looking for, Sydney?"

"Yes.  I think I did."

She ruffled Rogan's hair and headed over to the couch.

"You wanna stay here tonight, Weiss?"

"Sure."


	20. Rescue?

**_Little Child Lost_**

**_Chapter Twenty_**

**_Rescue_**

            Sydney waited outside the Operations Center, feeling incredibly worried.  Weiss had called in sick today, just so he could stay home and watch Rogan for her.  She intended to tell the CIA today about Rogan, but without telling them who the father is.  If they knew Rogan was The Passenger her son would be ripped from her arms so he could be studied.  That was the last thing she would let happen.  So, if she didn't tell them all about Rogan's origins, he would probably be safe.  But that was only if they didn't arrest her for deserting the CIA with an enemy of the country.  She took a deep breath and pushed the door open.  The Operations Center was buzzing, as usual, but the minute some saw her, they stopped what they were doing.  Pretty soon, the entire staff had stopped to stare at her.  Dixon emerged from his office to find out why all activity had ceased to find himself face to face with Sydney.  Marshall rushed to her, excited to see his friend again.

"Sydney!  I'm so glad you're back.  Again.  I've been really worried about you.  You left with Mr. Sark and Mr. Sark isn't known for being nice.  I mean, he could have tortured you if he decided that was what he wanted to do.  Did he-"

"I'm glad to see you, too, Marshall."

Dixon and Jack had made it over to Sydney, as had Vaughn and Lauren.

"Sydney, what are you doing back here?"  Jack asked, cautiously.  

"I wanted to come home.  I found what I needed to find, so I didn't need to stay away from here anymore."

Vaughn was watching her, with a great amount of relief.  He'd been worried about Sydney's sudden decision to leave with Sark.  It was very possible that Sark would even brainwash her again.  In fact, he may have brainwashed her.  Sydney and Sark could both be working for The Covenant.  But Sydney was standing before him looking completely normal, though not quite relieved and safe.  She seemed to be the Sydney they'd all known before she'd left two and a half years ago.  Looking at the pain on her face, he though she was just trying to adjust to being back in Los Angeles.  He didn't realize that it was Sark's words that had worried her.  Sark plagued Sydney's every thought, his motions, his out of the ordinary kindness, his protectiveness.  Then she'd see his anger and his hurt and she'd feel guilty all over again for doubting him.  She had to push it from her mind, though, to focus on telling them about Rogan.

"Dixon, can we have a meeting in your office?  All of us?"

Dixon nodded, slowly, trying to get over the shock at seeing Sydney back in the CIA again.  He knew he should arrest her for questioning on her hiatus with Sark.  But Dixon just didn't have the heart to do it.  The group headed on into Dixon's office where they could talk privately.

            Sark was at a firing range, shooting with great ease.  He was tired of sitting around and worrying about Sydney.  So he'd decided to go practice his aim, not that it needed much help.  He'd always been talented with guns.  All the same, Sydney's face haunted his thoughts.  Her worry, her pain, her frustration and her confusion had seeped into him, making him feel the same way she did.  He wanted to kiss her and kill her all at once.  He needed to get over her.  He needed to move on from the feeling of relief he'd had when he was with Sydney.  He needed to become the cold, unfeeling assassin all over again.  He'd never had a problem, not after seeing his mother murdered, by The Covenant, no less.  When Irina had taken him in at the boarding school, giving him special lessons, he'd felt like he was powerful.  He was powerful.  He'd easily shed his emotions with no problem; he didn't need them.  He had power and prestige now.  But Sydney had broken through and forced him to feel again and then she'd left him out in the cold to fend for himself.  Well, he'd always been good at fending, so there should be no problem.  Sark fired another shot, hitting the dummy in the heart.  

"Mr. Sark, Sir?"

Sark turned to find one of his minions, of sort, holding a phone.  

"What?"

"Irina Derevko is on the line.  She says it's vital that you take her call."

Sark removed his earphones and took the phone.

"That will be all."

The man nodded subserviently and exited the firing room.  

"Irina?  Why are you calling me?"  He sounded tired, more so than he'd intended.

"It's Sydney."  
"Sydney is not here.  She stubbornly chose to go home with her son to get herself killed."

"That's why I'm calling you.  Sloane knows she's in Los Angeles."

"Bully for him."

"Don't be so sarcastic, Julian.   You know he's going to kill Sydney.  I would go to her myself, but Jack will have me killed before he lets me near Sydney again.  You could go, though."

"Sydney told me she'd have me arrested if I came to the US again."

"And when has the fear of prison ever stopped you from doing anything?"

"This is Sydney's problem now.   Not mine.  I don't think it was ever my problem."  He had effectively evaded the question, but he hadn't been able to disguise the feeling of remorse in his voice.  The line fell quiet and Sark wondered if Irina had hung up on him.

"You love her."

"Now you want to meddle in my private life, Irina?"

"You never had a private life, Sark."

"That's the way to win me over to your point of view."

"You love Sydney.  You have to help her."

"I don't have to.  And I won't."

"Sark, you don't understand.  Sydney won't be able to protect herself from Sloane.  This is all part of The Prophecy.  The Passenger will be a danger to her.  This is why.  There is a struggle between Sloane and Sydney and Sydney will die."

Sark closed his eyes.  He could feel his defenses falling down.  He didn't want Sydney to die.  If anyone was going to kill her it was going to be him.

"Fine.  I'll go, Irina."  

Irina didn't want to patronize Sark by telling him she'd known he would go.  That would probably prompt him to stay behind.  She wasn't sure what to say, so she simply said goodbye before disconnecting.

"Xander?  Get the plane ready.  Seems I'll be going to the United States."

            Sydney stood at the center of Dixon's office, all eyes on her.  There was no reason to skirt around the topic of the meeting.  Sydney knew it would be best to take a direct approach.  So she blurted it out bluntly.

"I found that I had a son in my two years gone.  He's a year and four months old.  I've brought him home with me, but we will need to protect him from Sloane."

The concept of Sydney having a child settled into each person's mind.  No one had even suspected Sydney having a child, not even Sydney herself.  But even more than that, they needed to know why they needed to protect him from Sloane.

"Why do we need to protect him from Sloane?"

"Because Sloane is the head of The Covenant.  He's the one who has kept my child from me for the last few months, he's the one who brainwashed me and kidnapped me and faked my death.  And I finally took Rogan away from him and he'll come after us.  He'd rather kill us both than let me have him."

Every person's curiosity was piqued, except Jack's of course.  They waned to know who the child's father was and why Sloane wanted him so bad.

"Why is Sloane after your son?"

Sydney didn't hesitate.  She didn't want to make them suspicious.  She'd assumed they would ask her that question and she'd been prepared to lie to them about it.

"I didn't find that out.  But I don't care.  I just can't let Sloane get to him."

"Who's the father, Sydney?"  Dixon asked the question cautiously.  He didn't want to hurt her or make her angry.  But the possibility that Sloane was the father was too strong in his mind.  That would give Sloane a reason for coming after Rogan.

"Rogan's father is dead."

She left no room for questions regarding the father after that.  The group accepted it.  Sydney didn't exactly lie about that.  The father was dead.  

" Weiss heard me come into my house last night. Weiss is at home with Rogan right now.   So, I'm going to go home to get him and I'll bring Rogan in so you all can see him."

The last touch of that sentence was full of softness.  She spoke of her son so fondly, in a way a mother should.  

"All right, Sydney.  We'll help you protect Rogan from Sloane."  Dixon said calmly.    
"I'll start setting up guards at the house and surveillance and all that.  It may take a few hours though."

"That's okay.  He'll be here, so he'll be safe.  I doubt that Sloane will break into the Operations Center."

Sydney smiled warmly at her father, trying to convey happiness to the only man in the room that knew the truth.  She knew he didn't buy it, but he didn't try to corner her.  Maybe he thought Rogan would be safer at the Op Tech center also.  Sydney exited the office and headed home.  It was time to see her son again.

            Sydney had sent Weiss on ahead to the CIA.  She wanted to spend some alone time with Rogan before she took him in to be cuddled and studied.  She lifted him in her arms and rocked him calmly.  She couldn't imagine how she'd forgotten him.  He was beautiful and perfect in every way and she vowed at that exact moment that she would never lose him.  Rogan was so important to her.  There was no way to describe how she felt being a mother.  She prayed that she would be a better mother than her's had been.  Hopefully, it wasn't genetic.  Rogan giggled as Sydney twirled him in the air and called out a happy, "Mama!"  But soon the giggle turned into complete silence as the child stared behind her.  His big brown eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly open.  He stared so intently that Sydney turned around slowly, feeling a bit anxious.  She hadn't heard anyone come in.  And she had locked the door, so she would have heard someone pick the lock.  At least she thought she would have.  Sydney's eyes locked on the person standing in the doorway.  Apparently she had been wrong. 


	21. Bruising

**_Little Child Lost_**

**_Chapter Twenty-One_**

**_Bruising_**

****

            Sydney didn't know whether to feel relieved or distressed at the appearance of Sark in her doorway.  After the way they'd left things, she didn't think she'd see him any time soon.  And if she did, she figured it would be on a mission, not in her house.  He didn't speak to her.  He didn't even move.  He simply stood there, watching her.  He looked tired, which was slightly hard to believe.  He looked worried, too.  He was trying to hide it, but Sydney could still see it.  He finally moved, stepping towards Sydney slowly.

"What are you doing here?"

He tilted his head, his eyes sparkling in a way she recognized.  He was ready to goad her.

"Not rushing to the phone to call the CIA, Sydney?"

"I have my hands full."  She said it softly as she shifted Rogan on her hip.  

Sydney didn't want to admit that she thought it was physically impossible for her to turn him in.  She'd become so attached to Sark.  He'd taken care of her when she was weak and vulnerable, and though at times she thought he was betraying her, she knew deep inside he wasn't.  She'd always known.  Not that she would tell him that.  She had trouble trusting him, maybe because he had betrayed her before or maybe it was because Vaughn had betrayed her so deeply.  Vaughn had given up on her and **now** she knew she was better off without him.  But at the time, she'd put her whole heart into his love, their love, and then she'd discovered he would give up on it so easily.  Sark, however, if he ever did love her, probably wouldn't give up on her.  In fact, he never had given up on her.  She'd been cruel, needy, clingy, annoying, whiny, rebellious-a whole plethora of character traits-and he'd been there with her each time.  Before she'd disappeared, the one sure thing she had known was that Sark was an enemy and he could never be trusted.  Now, that seemed to be the sure thing she knew wasn't true.  He was there at her house even though she'd said she would have him executed.  He'd come after her and she realized at that moment she loved Sark.  Everything he'd done for her, for her son meant so much to her.  Everything Julian had been through almost justified all the evil he'd done.  But he would never turn good.  And she wasn't sure if she could deal with loving someone who was against the US government.  They were enemies.  And she could never tell him how she felt.  It just wouldn't work.

"Sloane's coming, Sydney."

She bit down on her lip.  She had to get Rogan to safety.  He would be vulnerable if Sloane attacked them at the house.  She needed to leave the house.  Right then.  

"How do you know that, Sark?"

"I got some intel from an incredibly accurate source."

"Sloane?"

Sark narrowed his eyes.  He'd risked his life to come here, and she was still accusing him of working for The Covenant.  Again.  It was almost unbelievable.  Of course, Sydney couldn't think he just wanted to help her.  That simply wasn't possible.  She was so naïve, so frustrating.  

"Indeed.  If this is the way you want to play it, Sydney, go ahead.  I was coming to help you.  I've learned my lesson now."

Sark turned away and started walking to the door.  He wouldn't put up with this treatment.  He'd just been setting himself up to get hurt again.  Sydney would never care about him.  He would just have to move on.  Perhaps find one of those girls who always clamored to him when he entered a room.  

"I thought you didn't care if Rogan and I were killed."

Her voice pierced his soul.  Yes, apparently he still had one.  Sark whirled and jerked Sydney to him, his grip on her arm bruising.  He kissed her roughly, no longer caring if he was hurting her or not.  

"You think I don't care, Sydney?  Are you honestly that blind?"

Sydney started to stammer, surprised at his slightly violent reaction to her words.  She stared up at him, finding herself staring into the crystal depths.  She could see his pain, and it was a fresh pain, not the usual dulled hurt.  She knew instinctively that she had been the one to cause it and there was no way to stop the guilt from flooding over her.

"I-I…"

"Your mother knew I cared about you.  And she's seen me with you a total of what, four times?"

"I-I…"

"Maybe you see it and you just don't care.  Maybe you can't care about someone like me.  You and I are complete opposites, and heaven knows I'm not as noble as wonderful Agent Vaughn.  I'm on the other side, Sydney, and you don't like that.  I'm afraid that won't change.  I am who I am.  I won't become something I'm not just to impress you."

"I never asked you to change, Julian."

"No, I don't expect you would. "

Sydney sighed before finally pulling away from his grip.  She watched him, shocked at how much he had just revealed to her.  He almost sounded like he loved her.  

"I'm sorry." Sydney said it softly, so much so he could hardly hear her.  She almost sounded like she was pleading for his forgiveness.

"Yes, I suppose you are."

He started to walk away from her.  He didn't need the stress she was bringing into his life.  He had plenty of other things to deal with.  He didn't need her around.

"I do care about you, Julian.  I have for a while now."

That made him stop.  He didn't want to face her, though.  He was afraid that there would be a hint of hope on his face and that would show her how much he really felt for her.  

"That's why I accused you of working for The Covenant, I think.  I could see how much I was starting to need you, to love you-" Sydney paused.  She hadn't intended to say any of this.  She was revealing too much.  Sark could use it against her.  Still, the rationale left her and she continued, "So I pushed you away from me.  I know you're dangerous, Sark.  Loving you would prove to be even more dangerous.  But I never expected you to change for me.  I never thought you would.  I don't even think I want you to change."

Sark turned back to her.  He didn't know what he was supposed to do.  Declare his love to her?  Wasn't that a bit cheesy?  And possibly even more dangerous for him?

"Sydney-"

"When is Sloane going to get here?"

She didn't expect him to return her feelings.  She didn't expect him to tell her even if he did.  Right now, none of it mattered anyway.  Sloane would probably be arriving any minute.

"Soon.  I think I'll hide back in your bedroom.  There's a clear view of you from there.  I'll keep Rogan in the bedroom with me.  I'll watch while you confront Sloane.  Ask him about The Prophecy, The Passenger. When he's done telling you, or when he attacks you, I'll kill him.  It's a simple plan."

"But it will work, won't it?"

Sark hadn't known how scared Sydney was.  She was terrified that Sloane would take her son.  He knew that he wouldn't let that happen.  Not now.  Still, he wouldn't fill her head with foolish promises or quiet reassurances, no matter what he resolved.

"Give me Rogan now and we'll go on back to get prepared for this."

Sydney sighed, not sure if she wanted to hand Sark her son.  If he did work for The Covenant, he could run with Rogan now and Sydney wouldn't be able to stop him.  Then again, he had saved Rogan from Sloane, so why would he return Rogan to the clutches of The Covenant?  Sydney would have to trust someone, so she decided that Sark was that person.  She couldn't be distrustful of him anymore, at least not about Rogan.  She kissed Rogan's forehead and handed him carefully to Sark.  He held the baby a little awkwardly, but he paid no attention to that.  He walked back to the bedroom, giving Sydney one last look.

"Don't worry, Sydney.  We'll finish this."

"I hope so."

            Sydney flipped on the television, trying her best to act casual.  She had to pretend like she didn't know Sloane was coming after her.  She had to pretend like nothing was wrong.  She had to pretend like her entire emotional being wasn't raging inside of her like a tornado.  Sydney closed her eyes to take a few calming breaths, but she found that all she did was listen for every little sound in the house.  Soon, she heard footsteps and she knew instinctively they weren't Sark's.  She twisted around on the couch to see Sloane standing behind her, a gun trained on her head.

"Hello, Sydney."

He was a little too calm for her liking.  She stood, feeling strangely comforted by the fact that a wanted terrorist was in her bedroom, watching over her diligently.  Sark was one of the best agents she had ever encountered and no matter what side he was on; that would never change.

Sydney didn't try to disguise her hate for him in her voice.  "Sloane.  What are you doing here?"

"Like you don't know.  I've come to get what belongs to me."

"Rogan doesn't belong to you."

"I warned you two and a half years ago to stop coming after me. You remember, don't you?  You were graduating that day."

Sydney narrowed her eyes.  She hated it when he brought up their past.  It was as if he thought that would soften her attitude toward him. 

"I remember.  Too bad you didn't listen to your own advice.  If you had left me alone, we wouldn't be in this position, Sloane.  You're the one who kidnapped me and brainwashed me and used me."

"I brainwashed you so I wouldn't have to do this.  I didn't want to kill you, Sydney.  I was hoping I could avoid that. I know The Prophecy says that I will, to save The Passenger, but I was hoping I could avoid that."

"Save Rogan?  I sincerely doubt you'd be saving him."  Sydney put her hands on her hips; ready to attack Sloane when she thought the moment would be right.  She had to be cautious, after all, he did have a loaded gun pointed out her and he was fully ready to use it.  

"Why do you have to do this, Sydney?  Don't fight me.  Just let me take him."

"What is The Passenger supposed to do, Sloane?"

"Bring Enlightenment to the world."

"What kind of enlightenment?  Scientific?  Spiritual?"

"It's too much for you to understand, Sydney, but Rogan is destined for great things."

Sydney wanted to throw up.  Or shoot Sloane in the head.  Listening to him gush about her son's future was more than she could take.  He sounded sick.  He was sick.  Obsessed.  Not that it made her feel sorry for him.  She knew that he was so far gone, no one could save him.  She didn't really want anyone to save him.

"I can take care of Rogan, help him come into his own greatness.  You just have to let me take him and agree to stay away from him."

"I could never promise you that, Sloane, and I'll never let you take him."

"And so arises our problem.  Again.  I guess I will have to kill you."

Sloane's gun cocked and a shot was fired.  Sydney threw herself to the ground just as Sloane was pierced in the heart by Sark's bullet.  Sydney rushed forward to check for his pulse.  Sloane was still alive, but barely.  The heartbeat was faint.  

"This-this wasn't supposed to-to-happen."

"You mean Rambaldi didn't prophecy your death?  I guess you died for no reason then.  Apparently everything he wrote was untrue."

"No.  Ramb-rambaldi is always-true.  You'll see.  Rogan will-"  Sloane's eyes rolled back in his head and his heart stopped.  

Sydney scooted away from the body, glancing up at Sark.  "So much for Rambaldi's immortality."

Sark knelt down on the ground next to her.  Sydney collapsed against him, the tension and fear and worry draining from her body.  Her face showed the strain of everything that had happened to her.  She seemed almost dazed.  Sark encircled her in his arms as she started to cry.

"What if this hadn't worked, Julian?  What if Sloane had gotten Rogan?"

Sark licked his lips as he contemplated her questions.

"I don't think it matters anymore.  Sloane is gone now."

Sydney nodded against his chest.  "Yes.  But The Covenant isn't."

Sark let that sink in.  Rogan would still be in danger.  They all would be.  But weren't they always?  Sark tightened his grip on Sydney before burying his head into her strawberry scented brown hair.  They'd deal with The Covenant later.  All the other problems would wait.  Sark just wanted to hold Sydney and amazingly, Sydney just wanted to be held by Sark.  

AN: There's still one more chapter, I think.  So it's not over yet.  Sydney and Sark still have to figure out what to do.  And the CIA still has to find out that Sloane's dead.


	22. Believe

**_Little Child Lost_**

**_Chapter Twenty-Two_**

**_Believe_**

            Sydney and Sark hadn't moved in five minutes.  She had finally calmed herself after the situation with Sloane, though she was nowhere near all right.  They remained curled together while staring at Sloane's dead body in the pool of congealing blood on the floor.  The quiet was almost disconcerting given the murder that had just taken place.  Sark leaned away from Sydney to get a better view of her face.  The tears had dried, but the shock had not left her.  He supposed there had been no way to prepare Sydney for Sloane's coming.  He also had a feeling that Sloane's words about Rogan had unsettled her.  Sark didn't know how to comfort her.  He'd never really been one to comfort someone.  Besides, he'd just realized his life's pursuit could be a lie.  Irina had taught him to revere Rambaldi from a very young age.  It was practically second nature for him to search for Rambaldi's truth.  But The Prophecy had been wrong.  Sydney had survived her confrontation with Sloane, due to him, but unlike Rambaldi had predicted.  Could Rambaldi be wrong?  Could everything he'd predicted be wrong from now on?  Was the entire future of the universe different now that Sydney had been reunited with The Passenger and she could raise him.  Rogan was safe from his destiny.  At least that was what Sark had concluded.  If that was so, the Rambaldi truth no longer existed.  There was no Rambaldi truth.  He was stuck between what he'd been taught and what he now assumed to be true and he didn't know how to move on.  What was he supposed to believe in now?  Irina had been wrong.  Irina had even been willing to change the future's history for her daughter.  Sydney tended to invoke that reaction in a lot of people.  He would have very easily given everything up to ensure Sydney's safety, as foreign as the feeling was.  He didn't need Rambaldi anymore.  He didn't have to follow a dead prophet's words.  Even with the new clarity Sark was receiving, he didn't want to think about the complications Sloane's death was bringing to his life.  He just wanted to think about Sydney.  Sark brushed Sydney's hair out of her face gently, trying to clear his thoughts.  Sydney either cleared his thoughts or confused them.  Sydney glanced up at him, her eyes surprisingly trusting of him.  Sark studied her for a moment before speaking.

"Sydney, about what we spoke about before…"

"You don't have to say anything about that.  I was a little overly emotional earlier.  I don't ex-"

"I love you, too, Sydney."

Sark took a deep breath; almost surprised that saying the words hadn't killed him.  Sydney grinned at him, not opposed to what he had said.  She tilted her head upwards, her pink lips pliant and ready to be kissed.  He complied, taking her mouth to his and both lost themselves in that kiss.  They were so oblivious to the world around them they didn't hear the door open or the various guns cock, ready to fire.

            "I don't believe this."  Vaughn was the first to speak.  The other CIA agents stood in shock at what they saw before them.  A very dead Sloane and Sydney cradled in Sark's arms in what looked to be a passionate kiss.  Sark jerked away from Sydney, jumping to his feet, ready to run.  Unfortunately he was surrounded by guns of four angry CIA agents.  He had let his defenses down with Sydney.  He'd lost himself in her and now he was paying for it.  He would go back into custody and he would never see Sydney again.  Had she even planned this?  No, he couldn't start mistrusting Sydney now.  She'd put her faith into him, so he'd have to do the same.

"What exactly is it that you don't believe, Mr. Vaughn?  Sloane's dead body lying here on Sydney's floor?  Or finding her in my arms?"  He had to admit, it was fun to patronize Agent Wrinkle.  Granted, it may not be the brightest thing he could be doing at the time, but he really couldn't resist.  

            Vaughn started to charge forward, ready to shoot Sark, but something stopped him.  Instead, he narrowed his eyes into what he hoped was a self-confident, warning glare.  Weiss was uncharacteristically silent, unsure of whether he should lower his gun or not.  He knew that Sark had helped Sydney a great deal during the past few months, so he didn't know if Sark was the enemy exactly.  Jack stood stoically by the door, not surprised by the scene before him.  Sydney and Sark had spent a lot of time together and he knew they had a great amount of chemistry and understanding between them.  

"Why are you guys here?"  Sydney asked from the floor.  She hadn't moved, or even tried to explain what they'd walked in on. 

"A neighbor reported a gun shot fifteen minutes ago after a short man with white hair had entered the house.  We knew it was Sloane and we were coming to protect you.  Apparently, you already had someone here."  Jack said calmly.  

Dixon stepped forward, not lowering his gun, but retrieving some handcuffs from his pocket.

"Mr. Sark, you are under arrest for espionage, terrorism, and kidnapping.  If you move, we will shoot you.  Just put your arms out nice and slowly.  You have the right to remain silent-"

Dixon rattled off the Miranda rights as Sark stood there, considering how surreal the arrest seemed to be.  Suddenly, Sydney was up and in front of Dixon's gun.  

"You can't arrest him, Dixon."

"I can, Sydney.  Why are you trying to protect him?"

"He came here to help me.  He would never have gotten caught again if it weren't for me, Dixon.  He wanted to save me and Rogan from Sloane."

"Move, Sydney."

"I can't.  You'll have to arrest me first.  I won't let you take him in."

Sark stood, almost stupefied.  Sydney was trying to protect him.  He'd thought she would push him to Dixon and let him be arrested.  

"Sydney, don't do this."  

"Sark will walk out of here.  Please, Dixon."

Dixon didn't seem to be budging from his decision.  Still, Sark didn't regret coming to help her.  She loved him.  She didn't want him to be arrested.  That was enough for him.

"Dixon, under the circumstances, I think we should let him go."  Jack's voice came from behind Dixon.  His gun was pocketed, though his facial expression hadn't changed.  It was deadly, but understanding.

"Jack, this guy is a wanted terrorist.  He'll just go and kill again."

"If he does, we'll catch up with him.  For that reason.  He came here for Sydney."

"Yes.  If he hadn't come, I wouldn't have been expecting Sloane.  Actually, Sark is the one who killed him.  To protect me.  Dixon, please."

Jack continued to try to convince Dixon while Sydney turned to face Sark.  Their gazes locked and a plan was formed between them without a single word being spoken.  Sark glanced around the room.  Agent Weiss was standing between him and the bedroom, but Weiss didn't seem to intent on stopping him.  In fact, Weiss had also pocketed his gun.  Sydney glanced at Weiss, her amber eyes pleading and Sark knew he was going to get away.  But without her.  He captured her gaze once more, trying to convey what he felt for her, even though it would likely never be safe for them to be together.  Then Sark slipped away quietly while Jack distracted Dixon and an extremely interested Vaughn with a constant slew of reasons as to why they should let Sark go.  By the time Dixon looked back to the spot Sark had stood, Sark was gone.  

"Jack, you were distracting me!"

Jack shrugged carelessly.  "I was just trying to reason with you, Director Dixon."

Dixon narrowed his eyes at the almost mocking use of his title.

"You can't do that, Jack.  You're still an agent of the US Government."

"Yes, and I'm still loyal to Sydney as well."

Dixon realized he'd been defeated.  He glanced at Sydney, who looked both heartbroken and relieved at Sark's disappearance.  Dixon knew he had to let this go.  Just once.

"I won't let this go again, Jack.  I'll have you arrested for aiding a fugitive if you and Sydney do this again."

"Okay."  Dixon turned to leave, slightly irritated, leaving Sydney, Weiss and Jack alone in the living room.

"I'll have someone pick up Sloane's body, Sydney."  Dixon said quietly before completely exiting the house with Vaughn.

            Sark was at a small hangar outside Los Angeles.  He was in a reflective mood and he didn't really feel like talking to anyone.  He just wanted to figure out what he was supposed to do about Sydney.  They couldn't stay together.  He didn't know if he would be able to give up the life he'd grown up in.  He'd been spying since he was young.  He'd been chasing after Rambaldi for years.  He had no desire to cut a deal with the government or turn himself in.  But he wanted Sydney.  He had a deeply welled desire for that woman.  He didn't expect her to leave Los Angeles, the place that held everything she'd ever known.  She was patriotic and dedicated to her work and there was no way he could ask her to leave it.  He didn't know what to do, and that was the first for him.  Sark pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number he knew so well.  Irina's familiar voice came over the speaker.

"Yes?"

"It's done."

"Sydney is safe, then?"

"Yes.  So is Rogan."

"And Sloane?"

"Shot dead in Sydney's living room."

Irina fell quiet, contemplating the news.  

"You aren't with my daughter, are you, Julian?"  Irina's voice comforted Sark.  She was the closest thing he had to a mother, since his had been murdered.  She had that tinge of a Russian accent in her voice that made him want to smile and relax.  Of course, she was one of the deadliest women he'd ever met, but that didn't matter to him at the moment.

"No.  She's at home."

"You did tell her how you felt."

"Yes.  And she feels the same."  
"Then why are you not with her?"

"The CIA came after a neighbor reported gunshots at her house.  I barely escaped.  It will never work between Sydney and I."

"You sound like you've given up, Julian, and you don't give up easily."

"Maybe I'm just realistic."

"Maybe you're afraid."

"Why are you so interested, Irina?"

"I want to see my daughter happy."

"Why is it that I sense there is more to it than that?"

"Good bye, Sark."

Sark sighed as he flipped the phone off.  Irina.  She never could be trusted.

            Sydney smiled bitter sweetly at her father and Weiss.  The loss of Sark was overwhelming her.  She had gone to retrieve Rogan after hearing him cry out for her.  Jack was studying his grandson cautiously, as if he didn't know what he was supposed to do with the child.  Weiss stayed back, trying not to intrude on Jack's meeting with his grandchild.    
"Thank you for helping Julian escape, Dad."

"I won't do it again, Sydney.  He has to stay away.  But I figured he could have one get out of jail free card since he did help you end Sloane."

"I know, Dad."

Weiss put his hand on Sydney's shoulder and squeezed.

"Do you love him, Syd?" 

Sydney nodded, unable to voice it.  Weiss nodded again, not trying to understand how she could love that man.  He was a murderer and a terrorist and none of that seemed to affect Sydney anymore.

"Then I don't regret helping him escape."

"Thank you, Eric."

He smiled boyishly before turning to leave the father and daughter alone.

"I'll see you later, Sydney.  I think I better try to do some damage control at the Operations Center.  I bet they've figured out I let Sark walk out of here."

"I hope you don't get in trouble."

"Eh, it'll be no big deal.  A little interrogation by Dixon, I'll be all right."

Sydney threw her arms around Weiss in a sudden show of her appreciation.  Weiss returned her embrace before leaving.  Jack looked up at Sydney, holding Rogan in his arms.  "Are you all right, Sweetheart?"  He sounded gentle, surprisingly so.  He rarely called her sweetheart.

"I'm okay, Daddy.  I've got Rogan."

"But you don't have Sark."

"No.  I don't.  But I'll be all right."

Sydney reached down to take her son from Jack.  She kissed Jack's cheek.  

"I think I'm going to go for a walk."

"I'll take care of the body."  

"Thanks."

Sydney placed Rogan in the stroller and pushed it out the door, making sure to keep her cell phone with her.

            Sydney stared straight ahead as the breeze ruffled her hair.  The day was beautiful, so beautiful the world seemed oblivious that one of its greatest evils had just been killed.  Rogan gurgled and cooed at everything in front of him, enjoying the world in a way that only babies did.  The environment around them was quiet except for the occasional bird's call or leaf tumbling on the pavement.  Her phone ringing broke into the peacefulness of the surroundings.

"Bristow."

"Hello, love."

She closed her eyes, allowing the sound of his voice wash over her.  She already missed him.  She'd been around him everyday for months, 24/7, and now she didn't know when she'd see him again.

"Julian.  Are you safe?"

"On a plane headed for Cyprus."

"Sounds wonderful."  
"It would be if you would come with me."

"Is that an invitation?"  
"You always have an invitation to come with me, Sydney."

She smiled, wishing she could see his face.  Her tone darkened as she brought up the topic they had both wanted to avoid.

"What are we going to do, Julian?  About us?"

"I can't leave this Rambaldi pursuit behind.  I need to know if the future is changed because of what happened today."

"I can't leave the CIA."

"I know.  I wouldn't dream of asking you."

"Even if you want me to?"

"Even then.  Just as I know you won't ask me to turn myself in to the CIA and cut a deal."

Sydney knew he was right.  She wouldn't ask him to give up some of his freedoms for this.  They didn't even know if their relationship would last.

"I have to raise Rogan."

"Yes and I'm sure he'll be a happy, healthy little boy."

"I think he misses you already."

"I think he hardly knows who I am, Sydney."

She laughed slightly, but she wasn't able to keep the bitterness from coming into her voice. "We won't be together, will we, Julian?"

"One day.  I do love you, Sydney, and I honestly don't think that will ever change."

"Same here."

"So it appears we are at a stalemate, love."

"What to do?"  
"Throw in our weapons and surrender."

"To what?"

"Each other."

The line fell silent as the heaviness of their latest predicament hit each other.  

"Julian?"

"Yes?"

"You'll call me, right?  And visit?"

"As long as you'll do the same."

"We could meet in Whitechapel."

"Seems appropriate."

The both sounded heartbroken and hopeful at the same time, which was quite a combination considering who was feeling it.  

"You'll find out about Rogan's destiny, too."

"I'll call you the moment I find anything out."

They knew they would have to hang up soon.  They couldn't stay on the line forever, despite what they wanted.  They were cursing the way their lives had unfolded.  If they'd been normal, there would be no problem with their love.  Rogan would be a regular child with no destiny decided by a fifteenth century prophet and they could be happy.  They could be the quintessential family.  But if everything were that easy, they wouldn't be them.  There would be no fire in their relationship.  And normalcy was overrated.

"I'll talk to you soon, Julian."

"Soon.  And Sydney?"

"Yeah?"

"Believe."

They stayed on the line for a bit more, neither willing to hang up first.   Finally, they both did, with a loud sigh and a heartbroken look.  And then Sydney took a deep breath and pushed Rogan on down the street just as Sark settled into a plush leather seat on his private jet.

Fini.


End file.
